For the Love of a Racer
by RMS-OLYMPICA
Summary: Doc Hudson is a young racecar at the peak of his career. Cornelia Eldorado is a fan who's followed all of his races. She has a crush on him-like so many other girls have-but she wishes she could know him better than just the dry reports in the newspapers and what she hears on the radio. She eventually gets the chance to meet him at the 1953 races, and they form a unexpected union.
1. Chapter 1

1~

ANY gentleman racer worth his salt in his career was guaranteed to have his share of fans, both male and female, though it was a fact there were more of the latter than the former. There were many girls the world over who would follow the racing scene just so they would know when their favourite guy would be competing for fortune and fame. The young ones who had their crushes would persuade their parents to take them to the designated race while the older girls would just head off on their own to take in all of the sights and sounds of their favourite event of the year.

Cornelia Eldorado was no different. She enjoyed watching races for the mere thrill of the sport, but she also had to admit that she had a crush—a very obvious one too—on her preferred racer, known throughout the country as The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, #51. He had it all, it seemed to her. He was an established champion, already winning the coveted Piston Cup twice in a row, and the most obvious factor to any girl was the fact he was greatly handsome. On the track and off he was stunning for her to look at, but this all improved when he was in action. He was so well-trained on the dirt that he would fly past many others who just didn't have the right stuff. When he was racing, she could see the joy and thrill it brought him reflected in his brilliant blue eyes and that in turn brought her even more joy. Oh yes, she definitely had a crush on him.

Her father, Charles Eldorado, noted his daughter's deep fascination with the racing world and with The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, and he admittedly wasn't that pleased about it. He thought the sport was something for menfolk only and that it wasn't correct for a girl or a woman to get any sort of interest out of it. He especially was cross over her crush. He likely wouldn't have been too serious with this thought if Cornelia simply stayed at home and read the newspapers that reported on the race, but she _went_ to the events. Because she was technically an adult, he had no choice but to let her do what she wanted, but that still didn't mean he had to be happy about that. No sir, he sure wasn't.  
Cornelia's mother, Mary Ellen, worried over her daughter's passion also, but was powerless to change her mind. All she hoped was that eventually Cornelia would get past this crush and start worrying about that nice Packard in town who was sweet on her. Mary Ellen wondered when Cornelia would ever notice him…

Meanwhile, Cornelia dreamed day and night about her all-time favourite racer. She counted down the days till his next race would begin. She listened to the radio racing reports for anything she could have possibly missed. In her mind, no racer would ever match up to her Hudson… yes, she admittedly thought of him in terms like that. Like any young girl with a crush, she also spent those minutes before falling asleep picturing herself with a future new last name, no matter how impossible it would seem to get it.  
Cornelia Hornet...  
A smile made its way across her front as it always had.  
 _Mrs._ Cornelia Hornet.

THE Fabulous Hudson Hornet, or simply his first name of "Hudson" which he preferred to be called over that long title, wasn't blind towards the many female fans he had, but one stood out more than all the others. She was there at his races always, a jade-green Cadillac who always tried to park herself at the very front row so as to see the action the best. She cheered like most of them did at the events, but she didn't scream like the youngest girls did. He found that a little uncommon, but it wasn't unwelcome. If you asked him point-blank to be honest about whether or not he thought he was a handsome car, he admitted that he "guessed" he was; the utter egotism of some of his competitors kept that sort of thought pattern in check in the long run. The way some of the racers went on about how "amazing" they were truthfully disgusted him. If he ever started dropping talk like that, he told his manager to he'd have to go find him an attitude adjustment. He considered himself pretty dang lucky to have the success he did and he sure didn't want to start getting pompous over it anytime soon.

When the 1953 racing season came around, Cornelia committed the dates to memory and then took off to the track. Charles watched his daughter's retreating form on the road until it disappeared and then turned back inside with a grumble.

"That daughter of yours needs to get her fender out of this fantasy she has. Does she honestly think that fool would give her the time of day?! Is that what she's even thinking?!" he demanded to Mary Ellen.

His wife sighed and answered, "I don't know, Charley. I don't know why she is so… obsessed. I'm worried about her too, you know."

"Worried ain't solving anything. As soon as she gets back here, I'm setting down the line more than ever that if she goes to one more race, she's getting kicked out of here!"

"Charles! You wouldn't!" Mary Ellen exclaimed, shocked.

"I just might if she keeps up with this nonsense behaviour!"

"Well, I agree it's not really the best interest for her either, but doesn't kicking her out seem a little… harsh? I'm just hoping we can get her sights on Mr. Treadwell. He is an awfully nice fella."

"You and that Packard…" Charles muttered before turning his attention back to the small television in the corner.

Meanwhile, Cornelia was cruising towards her destination, so glad to attend yet another race that she offered a cheery smile towards any other motorists coming her way. Nothing could dampen her mood now.


	2. Chapter 2

2~

Cornelia Eldorado had succeeded again in securing herself a front row seat at the Thomasville Speedway and cheered the moment the race began and the indigo-blue Hudson Hornet cruised forth. As his speed picked up, he was soon leaving several of his competitors in the dust. Already excitement had filled the stands and Cornelia was just as energized as they, if not more. The rest of the racers became no more than props to her as her eyes focused solely on the main lead. She somehow found a way to tune out all other racket so she could only put her attention on the sound of his powerful engine, and what a thrill it was! The roar of it was nearly deafening at close quarters, but somehow that just made it even more exciting. It was all a part of the race, and she found that she didn't even mind when her green hood began acquiring a rather brown tinge of dust that drifted off the track. If she never had the opportunity to meet her idol, getting dirt thrown on her that he had a part in tossing up wasn't bad either. Her parents would think she was crazy to even have such a thought, she briefly considered.

She watched every lap with glee until the very last one came. This was it. This was who would determine the winner.

"Oh please, Mister Hornet, please win! You've got the power. You ought to get the honor more than all those others!" she cried as she watched. It seems everyone else in the stands had the same idea and cheering for their respective favorites echoed 'round the track. But her eyes still never left The Fabulous Hudson Hornet, not even when the station wagon next to her gave her a nudge and said that he betted that his favorite would win instead. She shoved him off, earning an offended look in reply, but even if she had noticed, she had nothing to say.

Closer and closer the finish line came for the cars in the race, and Cornelia's heart plummeted when she saw another racer coming dangerously close to the lead. He was gaining on #51. Apparently the Hudson Hornet noticed this as well, and at what seemed like the very last minute possible, he gave the competition his all with a final show of top speed and as the flag went down, crossed the finish line—at first place. Cornelia felt as if her joy could never be contained, and cheered loudly at the triumph.

At this race, she knew her fondest hope couldn't be suppressed any longer, and so one way or the other, she persuaded racing officials to let her past to a place not many girls were usually allowed—where she could have the opportunity to meet her idol. When she had stated her plea to the first random race worker she saw, he had given her a confused look but at her begging had eventually relented. "Just make it fast. These cars are very busy, you know." he said in warning.

She promised she'd do that. All she could hope for now was that she wouldn't have a case of "cat got her tongue" and be able to say something. She rehearsed over and over again her greeting, hoping she wouldn't sound like some crazed fan. That'd be absolutely dreadful for such a wonderful opportunity as this.

When she made her way over to where all of the racers sat with their crews, it was easy to pick out The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. She thought he had the sharpest paintwork and of course, was the best looking. Waiting by the sidelines she sat until a small forklift noticed her.

"This isn't a place for the public to be, Miss." he told her.

She offered a little smile and answered, "I got permission from someone with the track though. He said I could come over."

"Would that be Henry Longmile you talked to?"

"I think so, yes. You see, I've been a fan of Mr. Hornet ever since I can remember and I did so want to offer him my compliments for his achievement. He's truly amazing."

"That he is, Miss, a genuine champion. Well, if you got permission, you can come on over. Just make sure you don't take up too much time. We're all busy, you know."

"I promise I won't," she said for the second time so far that day. Then, when the forklift moved away she slowly drove over to where the handsome indigo-blue car sat, only he wasn't so blue anymore. A thick coat of dust had fallen over him also, not yet cleaned off. She came around to face him, and when their eyes met he said, "Well, hello there, ma'am."

She braked and tried to summon up every scrap of courage she had. Her idol had spoken to her! To _her_!

"Hi. My name is Cornelia Eldorado… I just wanted to say 'congratulations' on your winning of the race, Mr. Hornet." she finally said with the manners she knew would make her mother proud.

He offered her what she thought of as his "publicity smile," which was so charming and undeniably urbane. "Thank you, Miss Eldorado. I appreciate that."

She shuffled her right front tire in nervousness and finally said, "You really are incredible. I've followed your races since you began. You're my favorite on the track. No one has the ways you have."

"Maybe none do right now, but I didn't start off in the very beginning as a champion either. To be good, you got to have a lot of training." he replied.

"I guess that's true. I enjoy races a lot. I love learning about them; I wish there were thing I knew that weren't printed in the papers. My dad says races aren't a 'womanly' thing, but I love attending them." she blurted, before mentally censuring herself for sounding like she was airing dirty laundry. She needn't have worried though, for he chuckled and said, "I've heard that before. Here's a thought for you, also."

"Yes…?" she asked, holding her breath, thinking he'd tell her time was short and she ought to start hauling fender out of there.

"You interested in learning about racing from an insider's point of view, you come talk to me later. I could tell you some of those things that aren't printed in the papers." he replied.

"Would you?" she asked, scarcely believing it.

"Of course. I've done all I need to do today—aside from getting cleaned off. Whatever else there is can wait a day. Later on after I'm cleaned up, you can come back if you want, and I could tell you a few things."

"Oh, I'd love to! It's alright?" she asked of him.

"It's nice to have some different company off the track. I don't mind." he assured her.

"I'll be here then! Oh, thank you, Mr. Hornet. This will be so exciting!" she exclaimed.

"Well, I hope your expectations aren't let down." he answered, smiling.

HE watched the form of the Cadillac retreat before turning back to the immediate events. He couldn't remember when the last time was he actually engaged a fan past the standard "thank you" for whatever compliment they offered. Why did he act different this time? He'd had a few girls before saying some things that were vaguely similar, but hadn't invited them for a longer talk. What was different? Well, this girl wasn't nearly as overexcited as some. That was one point. A lot of them could hardly get their words out and the youngest ones squealed something awful. Some of his companion racers thrived on that kind of attention, but he honestly found it uncomfortable. Cornelia Eldorado seemed older than those girls and also more mature, which felt honestly like relief. To have a fan squeal whenever you said the slightest thing got old very fast.

"Who was that, boss?" a forklift—a member of his pit crew—asked as he rolled up. The racer broke from his thinking and answered, "Some girl named Cornelia Eldorado."

"You know her?" he asked.

"Not before she came over, I didn't."

"Another squealing groupie?" he asked.

"Actually no. She behaved well, and wanted to know some things about racing."

"Don't they all," the forklift stated. The racecar ignored him and continued, "I told her if she was interested in learning other things 'not printed in the papers' she could come back later, after I'm cleaned up."

"You invited a _girl_ back? You ain't ever had a girl over for a chat. Is this what I'm thinking it is?!"

"What do you think it is?" the Hudson Hornet asked, firing the blue forklift a dry stare.

"A date? I mean, why not think that? You're one of the few racers that aren't connected with a gal, and you know how that improves your image. You would have had a gal in '51 if you wanted. I've seen how they look at you, boss. They think you're a dreamboat."

"That's enough. If you'd start cleaning me off now, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure, boss. Whatever ya say." he answered, although his mind was a whir of thought. If The Fabulous Hudson Hornet invited a _girl_ back for a talk, that'd make it's circuit quick around the racing community and before you knew it, they'd all be thinking every sort of thing possible.


	3. Chapter 3

3~

The jade-green Cadillac returned as promised later that afternoon to the "official members only" section of the racetrack, again receiving permission from Mr. Longmile, who appeared more than a little shocked at a second request for the same. It appeared to Cornelia that he was thinking about saying more, but held off at the last minute, leaving his response at "Go ahead." She was thankful for she didn't want to answer whatever questions he may have had. She just wanted to continue experiencing what was so far the best day of her life.

The indigo-blue Hudson Hornet was as clean as a whistle and shiny as a new penny when she met up with him. She looked down at her own still-dusty hood and said after hello's, "I guess I forgot to get cleaned up, too."

He smiled at her and answered, "I don't notice the dust on you nearly as much. My color is just like black: hard as anything to keep clean. Someone in my crew once told me I should get repainted something lighter, but I never gave it much thought. A big part of my job is getting dirty; I've accepted it."

She met his striking azure eyes and said with a little smile, "I think dark blue is a nice color for you."

 _It makes you look so very sleek and handsome,_ she also thought but did not say.

"Well, thank you for saying so, Miss Eldorado."

He led her over to some shade by some of the other racer's trailers and once she pulled nearby at a respectable length he smiled at her and said, "So, you tell me you're interested in racing. Not for you, I imagine."

"Oh no! Not me. I'm not nearly fast enough, and anyway… women aren't allowed."

"Not usually, but a lady be just as good of a racer if not better than a lot of fellas. All it takes is good speed and great training." he answered.

"Even if I could get the great training, I don't have the good speed. I'm a Cadillac, we aren't really fast. Anyhow, my family, especially my father, would be horrified. Dad would have an engine attack. I'm not interested in racing like that, though. I want to know how it is _for_ a professional racecar."

"Well, what's the first thing you'd like to know, Miss Eldorado?" he asked in a tone she already enjoyed for its warmth and patience.

She shuffled a bit and finally said, "How is it race? What does it _feel_ like?"

"It's the most thrilling feeling on this earth. When it's just you and the track, you feel like you can conquer anything. In a daily existence, around town, a car can't ever know their top speed and what it feels like to cut through the wind and see everything around them go by in a blur. So, most cars won't ever get past 60 miles-per-hour. Of course, there's nothing bad about a slower pace, but when I can leave that behind and go my top speed…"

He found her smiling at the talk and unconsciously returned it.

"I reckon there ain't nothing better." he finished.

"I've always noticed you've looked happy on the track," she said.

"That's because I am. I look forward to each and every race. Even if I didn't win, I'd still feel that way. The spirit of it makes you feel alive like nothing else can."

"I wish my folks felt the same way. If I was still a kid, Dad would forbid me from ever going to a race, I think." she sighed.

"Chin up. You're grown and that isn't ever gonna happen." he said warmly.

She met his eyes again. "True. And I'm glad about that."

A small span of silence passed and then he asked, "What else do you want to know?"

"Are you ever afraid when you race?" she ventured.

"I think a racer would have to think they're invincible to not have a shred of fear. Underneath all the gladness I have when I compete, I still have to keep a sound mind and realize that anything can happen. A tire can get blown out. Someone can hit someone else. Bad crashes have happened."

"You're too good at driving to ever have a crash happen." she offered.

"Maybe I'm fairly good, but let's just hope whoever around me is, too. A crash can spell some pretty bad news for a racecar. You're out for the season to get repaired. Sometimes by the time you get back, your fans don't seem to remember you, because they've moved on to whoever took your place." he said with a sigh.

He looked briefly so downed by the idea that, like any fan seeing their idol shaken, Cornelia wished she could come forth to offer a piece of comfort, but that's what the impolite and brazen did. Instead she offered him her typical sweet smile and said softly, "That's not ever going to happen to you, Mr. Hornet. You're a champion for life and no one could ever forget you even if something awful did happen—which it won't."

"You're quite the girl, Miss Eldorado. Quite the girl." he said, but not at all unkindly.

"I gotta say, you and that Caddy girl got on pretty well."

Jimmy, the same forklift from earlier rolled over once Cornelia had left the racing grounds that evening and kept his eye on her as she slowly cruised towards the exit.

"Nice lookin' girl too, boss." he said, now turning to that day's champion racer.

"She's pretty nice. Haven't had too many chances to meet a fan like her." he answered, looking towards where she had left even though she was now gone.

"I don't remember you ever having a chat that long with a girl. She must have been pretty unique for you to go for that." the forklift considered.

"She wasn't pushy or hysterical. Pretty rare form…"

"You have any interest _at all_ in getting a girlfriend, boss? You've said no to anyone else that's tried to get cozy with ya." Jimmy pressed.

The indigo Hornet let his eyes rest on his companion's and replied, "If I have any interest at all in getting one, it's going to be by my choice. Not every screaming girl is going to generate that sort of feeling from me."

"You think that Caddy girl is going to be the one?"

"She has a name, Jimmy, same as you do." the racer said, looking cross.

"Fine, okay. Don't get your tailpipe in a twist. You think _Cornelia_ is going to be the one?" he corrected with a huff.

"I've only known her one day. Don't put the plow before the tractor." was all the Hudson Hornet said in reply. Jimmy stared at his employer for awhile, waiting for more, but when he saw that was that, he rolled away.

Mr. Hornet could be awfully odd sometimes.

BEFORE Hudson Hornet turned in for the night, he had one last thing he wanted to do. When he thought Jimmy disappeared, the blue car pulled forward, only to be intercepted by the forklift as he took a turn. Although he was going slowly, he still had to slam on the brakes, and doing so made him fix the busybody little machine with a fisheye.

"Where you goin', boss? It's my job to get things for you. What do you need?" Jimmy chattered.

"I have to speak with Henry Longmile." the racecar stated.

"Well, why didn't ya say so earlier? I could go find him and deliver the message. You know I—"

"No. Not this time."

"What…?" Jimmy asked.

"I have to speak to him myself, thank you." he answered and slowly cruised forward before the little forklift could intercept any further.

He found Henry Longmile making a few last checks of the track to be sure everything was as it should be.

"Well, howdy there. Congratulations on another big win, Hudson." the sedan said with a grin.

"Thank you, Henry. I appreciate that." he replied once he came to a halt.

"You've sure beat every car on this track. Nearly seems like not much of a race, seeing as to how good you are. I don't much think there'll be another car to beat your power any time soon." Henry stated.

"I don't know. I'm just going to be glad for what I'm able to do now. By the way, Henry, I came here because of a certain matter."

"Let me guess, Hudson. That 'matter' is that pretty green Cadillac, Cornelia Eldorado. She asked me twice today if she could come on over to see you in person. Seemed to think quite highly of you, she did." Henry said, grinning.

"She did," Hudson agreed. "I can't say I've met a fan like her yet. She wanted to know about different aspects of racing and even when I told her the specifics, she seemed interested. I was quite amazed. Seems like every other girl who's asked something like that has used it as a ploy to know me."

"Not every gal is the same. Some like the champion _and_ what he is the champion of." the sedan said.

"Maybe that's true; I don't yet know. Either way, if she comes back around here anytime soon, let her know she doesn't need special permission to come see me. I'd be glad to answer any of her questions and it's no bother to me." the indigo car answered.

The sedan grinned more. "Something tells me she'll be right glad to hear about that, Mr. Hornet.

The next day, many of the racers who had competed against The Fabulous Hudson Hornet were packing up with their crews so as to attend the next race on their schedules. Some had already left. The only one who hadn't made any move to leave was yesterday's champion. The reason for this was that he planned on sticking around for that next Sunday, for Thomasville had smaller races against the fastest cars every weekend.

It was not yet noon and already a heap of press members had come out to report the latest win for all of their respective papers. Jimmy gladly posed with some other members of #51's crew, although there was probably a slim chance of his face being on the front-page news. No, that was reserved for the sleek blue car who's polished chrome accents sparkled brightly in the sun. It didn't seem like one bad photo of him could be taken. He had the best "publicity smile" and every reporter knew that. In the upcoming days, papers would be circulated all over the country with a picture of a young and triumphant Hudson Hornet on the front with the words " **3** **rd** **TIME WINNER OF THE PISTON CUP!** " trumpeting the great news.


	4. Chapter 4

4~

Outside of the racing circuit, Cornelia Eldorado sat in her motel room debating when she should best go home. Even though she knew her dad would have a fit, she wanted to stay the week so as to see the Sunday race with the fastest cars at the Thomasville Speedway. It wouldn't be the first time though that her father got irate. Although her mother wasn't altogether pleased that Cornelia had such an affinity for the races, she still would be more accepting and would understand if her daughter didn't return post-haste. Finally, Cornelia's want to see her favorite racecar won out. She would leave after the Sunday competition.

A few days before the race, she left her room to return to the vicinity of the track just so she could once again relive what she felt was an once-in-a-lifetime meeting with The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Never did she believe she could have ever met him. How she wished her parents cared more! The first thing she wanted to do when she got home was tell them that she met her favorite racecar in the entire circuit, but all she knew would happen would be her dad would grumble and completely shut-down the subject by turning to either the little television or the radio, and her mom might give her a little smile, say "that's nice, honey" and bring up Mr. Treadwell, that Packard she wanted nothing to do with. Couldn't she see he was some fogy too old for her?! He was the last guy she wanted to set her sights on.

She had pulled up to the outskirts of the track and although nothing was happening, somehow just seeing it was a joy for her and her anticipation deepened for the Sunday race. She became so wrapped up thinking of everything from the past day that she became quite startled when she heard a voice.

"Howdy, Miss Eldorado. I thought I'd be seeing you around again."

She shot swiftly into reverse and her eyes met those of the one Thomasville racing commentator, Mr. Longmile.

"Oh, hello… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look like I was spying. I just—" she quickly said.

"No need for you to be sorry, ma'am. I don't have a problem with you just hanging 'round looking at the track. I can't stop anybody from doing that. You're not causing any problems. Seems to me I'm not the only one that doesn't mind either." he said with a chuckle.

"I… beg your pardon?" she hesitated, trying to decipher if he meant what she thought he meant.

"Why, I'm meaning Mr. Hudson Hornet of course. Seems to me he right enjoyed your company. In fact—" he started, leaning in to the green Cadillac.

"Yes…?"

"He personally came to me and said you've no need in the coming days to ask for permission to go see him. He says he's 'more than happy' to answer any of your racing questions. I'd say you're a pretty lucky gal, Miss Eldorado. Hudson isn't usually the type to want to fraternize with any girl who gives him a pretty smile. Ain't ever had a girlfriend yet because of that."

Cornelia's mind felt like it ran at a hundred miles per hour with so much information. She didn't even know what to say. The sedan seemed to understand entirely, and with a chuckle said, "Why don't you come along with me? You may not need to ask me for permission to see the champion, but I still ought to escort you."

"Mr. Hornet! You got yourself a visitor!" Henry Longmile announced as he pulled up to where the sleek blue racecar sat. The moment he saw Cornelia's sweetly shy smile from where she was in tow, he couldn't help but return it. At the action, Jimmy sped away from the radio show he had been listening to and parked by his boss, looking anxious and excited.

"What an unexpected surprise. Thank you for bringing her, Henry." the racecar said.

"It's my pleasure, Hudson. You two have a nice talk." the sedan said with a nod of his hood before returning the way he had come. Once he was gone, Cornelia met the striking eyes before her and murmured, "I'm sorry for stopping by like this. I actually didn't plan on coming in, but Mr. Longmile saw me and invited me. I hope this isn't a bad time, Mr. Hornet."

"Not at all. I wasn't doing anything that can't be done another time." he assured.

"That's good; I'm glad." she answered, sensing that same crazy feeling from yesterday that came so close to making her speechless, it wasn't in the least bit funny.

He gave her his commonplace kind smile. "How've you been keeping since yesterday, Miss Eldorado?"

She momentarily startled at being addressed but then took a deep breath and replied, "I've been good, thanks so much. And you?"

"Perfectly fine. I dealt with a goodly portion of the press today and dodged the rest of them. Never has been my favorite part of my career." he answered.

"Stressful?" she asked.

"That and annoying. They come right in like they have every right to your life, and ask more questions than I have answers to." he said, shaking his hood.

Tentative, Cornelia asked, "Do I… have I asked too many questions also? I don't want to seem annoying."

He quickly met her gaze and assured, "Don't you think that. I don't mind your questions at all. You aren't asking to simply sell a few newspapers. I may be wrong, but I'd assume you're genuinely interested."

"I am. I really am. You're my favorite racecar in the whole business and have been since I can remember." she burst.

He smiled warmly. "It makes me happy to be someone's favorite."

"I'm sure you're many folk's favorite. You're the most amazing racecar in the whole country, after all."

"I don't take myself too seriously when it comes to that. I've seen how some of the fellows are who've competed against me. That kind of attitude isn't a winner." he told her and then added, "You look like you're thinking about something, Miss Eldorado."

Cornelia looked up quickly; unaware she had outwardly seemed so pensive, but then after thinking for a few seconds, asked the indigo racecar, "I was just wondering… how do your folks feel about your job?"

The young Hornet considered his family and then answered, "They are accepting. My father was a racecar also, but for him the work ruled his life. I don't think he ever had that much interest in parenting, to be honest."

"What makes you say that?" the Cadillac asked. The racecar smiled at her and replied, "I think my name is proof he didn't have that much interest in a kid. Because of our last name, Hornet, he chose the easiest name possible for the first: Hudson. Not very original when you realize my make and model is a Hudson Hornet and my legal name is also Hudson Hornet. I got teased a lot when I was younger about it and some still think I'm kidding now."

"It's not an awful name." Cornelia offered.

"No, but it isn't creative either," he replied.

"You speak of your dad in past-tense. Is he..." she hesitated.

"Deceased? Yes, he is. He had a fatal engine-attack some years back. It was expected, I guess. It seems most every male in the Hornet line has had that happen. If it's for me too, well, I hope it'll still be a long while off yet."

"I hope it never happens…" she murmured.

"I'll have to retire from racing one day, no car can escape it, but I'd rather I do it by my own choice than because I have some fatal combustion under the hood. That's enough talk now on that sort of thing. How long do you plan on staying around here, Miss Eldorado?"

The green Cadillac shrugged and answered, "I guess I will leave after the Sunday race."

"Doesn't sound like you're too eager to go home." the racecar replied.

She met his striking blue eyes and answered, "I'm not, really. And I have a reason. Dad's enough to deal with. He's never wanted to accept my interest in the races and I doubt he ever will. Mother doesn't try to sway him, either. She's more interested in playing matchmaker."

"Is that right?" her companion said with a chuckle.

"I think so. There's this guy back home—Mr. Treadwell—and Mother thinks he's the best thing since the self-starter. I don't like him at all." Cornelia looked down at the surface of her hood. "He's too old for me and all he ever wants to do is be patriotic about his make, Packard. Sometimes when I go out for a drive I can avoid him, but sometimes I can't. He bores me to tears, but Mother keeps thinking he's 'the one' and I guess I'm supposed to think that too. I haven't yet though and I don't plan to. He's insufferable."

"Doesn't sound like the type for you. A girl with as much spunk as you wouldn't be happy with that sort. I can understand." he told her. She looked up quickly and said with hesitance, "You think I'm… _spunky_?"

"A girl who's come all the way you have to attend races on her own is certainly spunky. This Mr. Treadwell you speak of would have no idea what to think if he had you as his nearest companion." he assured with that rather charming smile.

Cornelia felt the heat of a blush and fought in vain to suppress it. "Did you… did you just compliment me, Mr. Hornet?"

"If you'd like to take it that way, then, yes." he answered with warmth.

Meanwhile, Jimmy the forklift merely used the radio he was listening to as a prop. His attention was focused entirely on the pretty jade-green Cadillac and the sleek blue Hudson Hornet. His boss hadn't had himself a girlfriend yet, but Jimmy had a strong inkling that there was a pretty good possibility that Miss Cornelia Eldorado would be the first.


	5. Chapter 5

5~

 **4 MONTHS LATER**

Charles Eldorado had kept his promise and when his daughter returned from her latest race, he gave her this ultimatum: You either marry that Packard and stop going to those forsaken races, or you keep going and move out. Cornelia had no intent of wedding that fool Mr. Treadwell, so she took the last option and moved out. Mary Ellen was disappointed that her daughter would let such a "wonderful man" as Mr. Treadwell go, but could do nothing to change Cornelia's mind. The young Cadillac had lived for a couple weeks at the local motel, trying to figure out where she'd go next, but when Mr. Treadwell started following her about town and stopping by at all hours hoping for what she felt like was just a fixture to talk to, she checked out and got on the road that lead out of town and to all points with more hope.

She let her heart be her guide, and so it was no surprise that she wound up in the town where the Thomasville Speedway was the greatest attraction for miles. She had rented a room in the same hotel she had lodged at during the races and while she was there, tried to ask in an offhand way (likely not succeeding well) about The Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Everybody knew his name, from the most rickety Model A to the youngest Buick. Most all of them had high praise for him too, and Cornelia always drove away feeling warmed by the opportunity she had to know such a famous and well-loved car. Deep down, she tried to keep some semblance of logic and knew that the chance of ever having another talk with the racer was slim to none, but a girl could always hope, couldn't she?

And so she attended the Sunday races and kept her eye out for the day he would appear again, and he did. He raced, he won for that day, and she shockingly found herself face to face, able to converse again.

"Don't know if you know this or not, Miss Eldorado, but it's no secret 'round here that Mr. Hornet likes you." Henry Longmile had told her on that lucky day of return.

"You're just saying that…" she brushed off, denying the claim.

"I'm sayin' it because it's true. He missed you when you left. Maybe he didn't say it to me or even to his crew, but it was obvious. His mind was wanderin' somewhere else." the sedan had said.

Whenever #51 competed, he was more than glad to have Cornelia's after-race companionship. In the months that followed, the formalities fell from their meetings and the first time the Cadillac had become "too casual," she was nearly horrified.

He had been telling an uproariously funny story of a press meeting he had had in the past.

"This fellow from _The Rear View Mirror_ kept trying to pry all of this information from me. I told him I wasn't interested in answering I don't know how many times and he didn't believe me. One thing I did notice though was that he was a jumpy sort. The next time he came just a little too close to me, I turned over my engine and revved it, and in those close quarters, it's loud. He reversed so fast, he could of won a trophy for that alone."

Cornelia laughed long at the idea. When she finally regained her breath, she said, "You certainly showed him! Why, you ought to use that tactic more often around that kind, Hudson!"

Although his reaction was no different than the smile he already wore, Cornelia suddenly went dead quiet and her eyes went wide.

 _Chrysler forbids! Did I really just call him his first name?! We're_ friendly _but I don't know if that's quite allowed yet or not. Oh, I just blew it,_ she thought.

"I'm sorry, I—" she babbled, trying to cover up what she just thought was ill-mannered, according to what her parents taught. A girl didn't call a guy by his first name unless they were a couple. Ugh… now she did it.

"I don't think there's any need to be sorry… Cornelia." he replied, using her name for the first time as well.

Despite being previously embarrassed, the pretty green Cadillac couldn't help but smile. She didn't think any other voice could call her by name as wonderfully as his.

THAT accidental "slip up" ended up being exactly what was needed to progress their relationship from icon and fan to simply two young cars enjoying each other's company—immensely. Never again did they address each other by a prefixed surname to maintain manners. Those formalities were gone and nothing would bring them back. As time went on, Cornelia wore the role of not only a friend but as the woman she was and expressed this right to its extent.

It was a dusky evening off the track. Ever since they'd known one another better, they had met—minus nosy Jimmy—at different places around the town. Cornelia's favorite was a big, open park that had the best view of the setting western sun. It was there this particular evening they sat. As the sun sank lower and lit the sky with all of its colors, she found her eyes drifting over to her companion. The orange and gold and purples in the clouds reflected onto his distinctive grille and all of his other chrome accents. Even with his racecar paintwork, this natural glory was unmistakable and stood out brightly. The warm evening light lit his azure eyes in ways sharp noonday sun couldn't compete with.

Cornelia smiled softly. "Anyone ever told you what an absolutely handsome man you are, Hudson?" she asked.

He met her fond gaze and returned the smile. "Anyone ever told you what an absolutely beautiful woman you are, Cornelia?" he retorted.

She lowered her eye-rims and answered, "Even if they did, having you tell me means a whole lot more."

"I can only say the same then for what you told me, Cornelia." he answered with his seemingly inborn charm.

"You're a bit of a rascal." she teased.

"Aren't I too young to be called that?" he replied.

"Not too young. You have a whole lot more allure than that stuffy old Packard my mother wanted me to date, and he's older than you. He's no rascal. You are." she said.

"Alright, I'll accept it then." he said, good-natured.

They settled down on the same strip of land they had first met on in what felt like an eternity ago to Cornelia. Every day she couldn't believe how things had turned out. She had never thought one meeting with her favorite racecar in the circuit would lead to this sort of friendship. She had to be the luckiest girl around, wasn't she? She had no idea though that within the time spent together that evening, she'd be a whole lot luckier.

It was when the sunset came it happened. Although the view here wasn't as great as at the park, the evening colors still dressed their chrome-work as if it had been watercolor painted. Cornelia smiled with pleasure and sank low on her springs. She was so happy and so content.

"Cornelia?" the voice of her companion said. She met his eyes and asked, "Yes, Hudson?"

"I have a question to ask you. I've wanted to ask it for awhile now, but have waited."

"You think I'll have an answer?" she asked with a smile.

"I don't know. I'm sure you'll have an answer of some kind, but even if it's not what I'm hoping for, well, I promise to be good-mannered about it and honor your choice—even though there's a pretty high chance that you'll break my heart."

"Whatever could you be talking about?!" she laughed.

He didn't offer an immediate answer. Instead, he cranked over his powerful motor and slowly pulled forward and around so as to face her head-on. He then shut his engine off, went as low as he could on his front axles without scraping his chrome trim and said, meeting the sparkling green eyes of the lovely Cadillac, "Cornelia Eldorado, I'd like to ask you if you will marry me."

Her jaw dropped and shock robbed her of speech for a couple short seconds until she regained a semblance of composure. When she did, she cried, "Yes, yes! Of course!"

His smile seemed to turn more handsome than it ever had been prior and once he rose to his average-if-still-low stance, he slowly rolled forward till they were closer than they'd ever been before. "You've just made me the happiest racecar in this whole country, darling." he said. Before she had a moment to react to the first time use of such a term of endearment, he pulled forward just a few more inches until the space between them lessened and then vanished entirely when he leaned in to give her a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

6~

The news spread like wildfire among the circuit that the famous Hudson Hornet had asked a common Cadillac to marry him, and before she expected it, Cornelia found folks noticing her more on the streets and shouting out their wishes to her. She barely knew how to handle the attention, but she could still handle it better than what she knew she would have to do next: tell her parents. She could only put that off for so long before it had to be known to them. Like the gentleman he was, Hudson drove all the way with her to her hometown, but once in the small village became her escort, simply followed directions she gave from where she cruised slowly by his side.

"Well…. here we are." Cornelia said when they stopped before a house that looked so much smaller than it had almost a year prior. How time and experience changes everything, she thought. "Wait here for a minute." she told her companion and then rolled up to the big front door and gave a little knock with her right front tire. Instantly she heard griping and grumbling inside. Her dad was already upset, it sounded like.

When the door flew open, Hudson got his first look at his betrothed's father, a dark forest-green Cadillac with a long and sloping frame broken up only by the black of his fenders. He was not an ugly car, but he had the expression of someone who had short patience for certain matters, and the racecar had a feeling this would be one of those matters.

"Cornelia! What did you do, just drop out of the sky? Decide to get some sense and see that blamed Packard after all?" he barked.

"About that, Dad…" his daughter began.

"Yeah?"

"Is Mom home?" she asked.

"She's in the back room watching soaps. Been watching them 24/7 since we got that other little TV. I'll go get her." he said, and disappeared from the doorway. Cornelia gave the racecar a look and urged him to come over. He pulled up alongside her, and as the shapes of Charles and Mary Ellen approached, held himself straight and proud in a stance that said he'd do anything to ensure the safety of his fiancée. Cornelia couldn't help but feel proud and would have leaned over to him a nuzzle if it wasn't for Charles appearing at that moment.

" _Who in Chrysler's kingdom is that?!_ " he exclaimed.

Cornelia rose to the occasion and said, "Mom, Dad, I would like you to meet Mr. Hudson Hornet."

"How do you do," the introduced said, typical of his good manners.

Charles Eldorado ignored the greeting. "Alright. We've met. Now what do you want?" he said in reply.

Mary Ellen got a good look all of a sudden and wailed, "A racecar?!"

Cornelia nodded and decided if she didn't say it now, she'd never be able to say it. "We're going to get married, Mom, Dad."

"WHAT?" Charles blasted.

"Oh Fordy!" Mary Ellen cried. Hudson's eyes shifted to the light yellow Cadillac that was Cornelia's mother. He couldn't tell if her outburst was of joy or distress, but he had inkling it was the latter.

Charles set his jaw and looking right at his daughter said, "Is there any chance your mind can be changed, Miss Cornelia? You may not like that blamed Packard, but he's still a heap better than a… a _racecar_." He spat the last word as if it were filth.

Cornelia stood her ground and answered, "He may be a _racecar_ , but he's the kindest and most gentlemanly one anyone could ever know, Dad."

Charles's attention turned to said racecar. "What was your name again?" he asked.

"Hudson, sir." he replied.

"Alright, Hudson. I'm going to have a word with you." the dark-green Cadillac said, and begrudgingly moved aside to allow the company in. "Wait out here with your mother, Cornelia." Charles advised his daughter when she started to come over. Mary Ellen wept and the young Cadillac found all efforts at conversation with her mom shuttered, so eventually, she stopped trying.

Inside the small and dimly lit house, Charles turned to the young Hornet. "So, you're a racecar. I can see all that by that loud paintjob; number 51. You're the one my daughter fixated on since she got her first taste of a race. That kind of scene is no right thing for a woman to be involved in, and I feel you have to know where I stand on that. I never was pleased with her fascination and she knew it, but didn't smarten up either way. Unless she smartens up real fast now, it looks like she'll be stuck in that sort of craziness for life."

"I give you my word that I will do everything I can to love her fully." the younger car said, meeting the older Cadillac with a cool and even gaze.

Charles shifted and looked down his long hood at the decorated car before him. "If you want to love her fully, the first thing you'll do is quit your line of work." he said quietly.

Outside the open door, Cornelia had heard it all.

BEFORE the year was up, Cornelia and Hudson Hornet were married in a ceremony attended by scores of the racing community. It had to be the most exciting and involved day of Cornelia's life so far, and when it was all over, she slumped tiredly against her new husband and said, "I never thought it'd be so hard being Mrs. Hornet."

He instinctively gave her a loving nuzzle and answered, "If it's a comfort, you wear that title very well, darling."

"I'm glad of that," she answered, closing her eyes.

"You think a drive could invigorate you?" he asked.

"I don't think I could keep up!"

"I don't go _everywhere_ at over a hundred miles-per-hour. You know me better than that!" he chastised, although kindly.

"I know that, you silly! I'm just worn out from the day and want to relax. We can go for a drive some other time."

"That's true. There'll be plenty of time ahead of us." he assured.

"Years and years…" she said softly, smiling.

Their honeymoon coincided with when the racing season was over for the year and although the racecar could not retire his official paintwork, he could temporarily retire his drab racing tires and rims for city-driving white-walls and his natural chrome rims.

"You could be the fanciest racer on the track like that!" Cornelia told him, appraising this new look.

"If I raced in these tires, that'd be the last time they'd look nice along with the rims. After one race, they'd be ruined. I only save this look for special occasions, Cornelia." he told her.

"And I'd say a honeymoon is a pretty special one." she said, winking.

They left that weekend and went on a drive to no special destination, instead just enjoying the sites and natural wonders along the way on their tour in the desert southwest. The red rock canyons were more beautiful than anything Cornelia had ever seen before, and when the sunk began sinking below the horizon, their majesty was enhanced tenfold. She knew this would be an occasion to remember for the rest of her life.

They wound up at a small but tidy roadside motel heralding its amenities with a new-looking neon sign. Their room was pleasantly spacious. The door had barely been shut before the handsome blue racecar came 'round to face his wife and their gleaming chrome grilles met as he kissed her deeply and with unmistakable passion. Cornelia's eyes slipped shut and she returned the kiss with just as much ardor. He had kissed her before, but never like this. It nearly made her melt. The closest she came to that was sinking low on her springs as the affectionate gestures continued. Finally this won out over self-control, and the weight she had on her brakes lessened more and more until finally her chrome bumper lightly collided with the papered wall behind her. The Hudson Hornet kissed her once more before looping around to come up alongside of her so as to give her a long and amorous nuzzle as his sleek blue side met her jade-green one.

"Don't stop, Hudson…" Cornelia murmured.

Without breaking off the affection, he answered, "I have no intentions of that, my dear."

"Kiss me again," she begged.

"You don't have to ask me twice, Cornelia." he assured, and turned back to face her. After bestowing her with the kiss, he said, "I knew I waited till I got married for a very good reason and I'm glad I did. You're the love of my life, Mrs. Cornelia Hornet."

Her eyes slid slightly open and with the most loving of gazes she replied, "As you are of mine, Mr. Hudson Hornet." 

By the time their honeymoon was at its end, both Cornelia and Hudson could agree it had been a thoroughly wonderful time and a perfect start to their marriage. On their way back home, Cornelia drove alongside of her husband in the other lane of the two-way road so long as no one else was coming, and conversed freely of the many wonderful previous days.

"I never could have imagined such pretty landscapes existed. If I could live out here, I sure would. I don't think it'd ever get old." she exclaimed.

"This always has been one of the most beautiful parts of the country. Whenever I'd see it on my trips back-and-forth for races, I'd always hope that one day there'd be someone else to share it with—aside from Jimmy." he said, giving her a smile.

"Well, it looks like I'm the lucky one!" she laughed. "But, there is something important I feel you need to know."

He briefly averted his eyes from the road and asked, "Is there?"

She threw him a playful wink and answered, "Oh yes, Mr. Hornet. You wore me out. Never knew what a passionate lover a racecar could be."

"Think I'd do everything fast?" he asked.

"A girl never knows for sure." she teased.

He glanced back at her again and replied with a smile, "Even if I was the type to live fast, which I'm not, there are just some things worth savoring. The pretty girl I call my wife is one of them, Cornelia."


	7. Chapter 7

7~

Just because the actual honeymoon was over didn't mean it was over in daily life. Cornelia could agree that not only was her husband a champion on the track, but he was also a champion when it came to being a loving spouse and treated her like a queen; the most precious thing in his possession. Other racers prized their trophies first and foremost, but Hudson sooner let his three Piston Cup wins acquire dust. "They're just a bunch of empty cups," he told her with his charming smile. It was she who was his all and everything.

Their first Christmas shared was a warm and cherished occasion and although neither knew what to give the other than their undying love, they couldn't think of what else they could possibly want. On the stroke of midnight on the very last day of 1953, they gave a toast not only to the New Year but also to many happy days together in their future, and as they joined for a kiss, the clock struck twelve. They later agreed their shared show of affection was the perfect way to say hello to 1954.

They had a few more worry-free days until training season began anew for racecars, and Hudson traded in his since worn-daily white-walls and chrome for the drab but essential racing tires and rims. On the first day of his training before he left, Cornelia couldn't help but giggle and said, "How're you going to explain that, dear?" She motioned with her hood to his paintwork. The letters which read " **FABULOUS HUDSON HORNET** " had undeniable scrapes and scuffs across their yellow surface from the many times he had affectionately rubbed up against her side.

"No asking, no explaining." he answered with a smile.

"What if Jimmy asks? You know he'll notice." she countered.

"He notices a lot, but I'm still under no obligation to answer."

"What if Henry Longmile notices? Will he worry about you being in some accident?" she inquired.

He said with a wink, "It was no accident, my dear girl."

She laughed softly and purred, "I guess it wasn't, you handsome guy."

He slowly came over to give her a loving nuzzle on the side of her front fender and replied, "If that did qualify as an accident, I'll be glad to 'endure' them more often."

AT the Thomasville Speedway, the first car he encountered just happened to be Henry. The sedan gave the racecar a friendly grin and asked, "So, how's married life treating you, Hud?"

"I couldn't ask for anything better, Henry." he answered, truthfully.

"I'm mighty glad to hear that. How's the little lady?" Henry inquired.

"An absolute delight. Never could have guessed having a wife would be this wonderful."

"She's a real pretty girl and it's nice that she seems to be as sweet as her looks. When she first came 'round asking about you, I figured she was a dear. Glad to know it's true. I guess you're glad you held out for this long on getting married?"

"I am. It might sound impossible, but Cornelia is the love of my life." Hudson answered, smiling at the thought of the pretty Cadillac who was his best girl.

Training for the next upcoming big race always was something that was involved and took a whole lot of work, so much that even for a young car, it was wearing. Because of this, Hudson and Cornelia did not go out for nearly as many drives as they had before, but he still took her out every Sunday, no matter how tired he was or wasn't. He wore the title of gentleman without a doubt, and Cornelia found her heart always fill with pride whenever her and her husband would go out on the town. Other girls may have looked (how could they _not_ notice a fellow as handsome as him?), but she never worried about him giving one of these random ladies a look in return. He was dedicated to her and that wonderful kiss he gave her each night proved exactly who his love lay with.

FINALLY training-season was over and within just a couple weeks the big race for the 1954 Piston Cup came 'round again. Cornelia was overjoyed at the idea of attending this race not as a spectator with a crush, but as a girl married to one of the guaranteed champions. She counted down until the day before the race, and by then her anticipation was apparent. The next day her beloved Hudson would race, and if his impressive record was anything to go by, he'd very likely win.

Both of them opted to retire early for the big day ahead, but sleep wasn't the first thing that came. Cornelia gave her mate a sweetly sly look out of the corners of the eyes and said, "Well, tomorrow's the first big race we attend as a couple. I think that'll be awfully thrilling."

He smirked and replied, "I know something that's more thrilling than that, though."

"And whatever could that be, big guy?" she teased. He looped his long and sleek chassis around her and replied as they met head on, "You know the answer to that one, my dear Cornelia."

"Maybe I just do," she murmured before leaning in to kiss him. He returned it with just as much love and desire.  
Within just a short time, a single kiss seemed to take a turn for a whole lot more, and when the bigger indigo-blue car moved in further, Cornelia couldn't help but stop his advances with her left front tire and say, "Don't you have _any_ interest in getting a decent rest for the _loooong_ day tomorrow, Hudson?"

He gave her his trademark charming smile and replied, "I'll get what I need, don't you worry."

She returned the smile and purred, "If that's the way you want to play it then, why don't you show me just what you've got to offer, Mr. Fabulous."

He moved in when she dropped her tire and answered, affectionately rubbing up against her side, "With all my pleasure, Cornelia. With all of my pleasure I will."

THE next day, Cornelia found the best viewing spot for the race and sat tight for a wonderful time. Given her status now as Hudson's wife, she had been offered a seat with Henry Longmile is the commentator's stand, but she had refused. She could get the closest sitting with everybody else and even if she couldn't, she didn't want any special privileges.

When the race began and all of the cars in it accelerated forward, the Cadillac's eyes followed her favorite racer, as always, though now she felt an even greater love for him than she could have imagined. It was hard to believe a year had passed since she had watched the 1953 match as only a spectator. Things had changed so much for the better, she thought.

Admiration and pride filled her as the race got underway and she watched The Fabulous Hudson Hornet execute the best driving skills there had to have ever been on a dirt track. Around the turns was her favorite part to watch; how he'd be going straight for the longest and then almost gracefully turn broadside to use his gathered speed to drift what seemed like effortlessly around the bend. He made it look so easy. This mechanic put him far ahead of the others he was being challenged against, and he tore across the line with the other competitors closing in for another lap. The race was far from over, but Cornelia still cheered excitedly regardless. If the cries and yells about the track were anything to go by, she wasn't the only one rejoicing either. Smiling, she knew for sure her husband would win the Piston Cup a 4th time around. He was just too good of a driver.

ONE minute things were fine… the next they were not. Cornelia didn't know what lap the race was on now; it was the last thing she was going to remember. The race had been going so well, and everything had seemed perfect. The turns, the rank the racers were in… everything.

Hudson had gone in to perform his drift on the turn nearest Cornelia. He had turned broadside the way he had done so many laps before that in a way that was second nature to him. He had started to drift and then… something went wrong. Horribly wrong. Maybe he had gotten up just a bit too much speed than he had all the time before. Whatever it was resulted in horror. When he turned to drift, he glided smooth for only a millisecond until something seemed to catch. Terror filled his azure-blue eyes upon understanding this was a mistake he could not correct. The speed he had gathered spun his normally excellent driving out of control and it flung his chassis up in the air where it rolled over and hit the ground with a sickening crash only to roll several more times across the dirt track. The shattering crushing and clanking and banging was a cacophony straight from hell. To add an even crueler element to what brutality the lead in the race had already experienced, his final roll slammed him straight into the wall nearest the race attendees. When the impact sent him backwards, he came to a rest in the middle of the track, battered, bent and so terribly broken.

Silence fell over the crowd like a wave. Even Henry Longmile's energetic chatter had ceased. Finally the shroud of quiet was broken though, and it was by Cornelia's anguished scream.


	8. Chapter 8

8~

He sat there in the middle of the track broken in what looked like every way possible. His once sleek body was wrecked with dents and bangs and scratches everywhere possible. Smoke rose from his hood. His headlights had shattered and the glass they had spread across the dirt made a twinkle that wasn't beautiful to look upon. His handsome chrome grille was crushed and twisted and his tires sat at such unnatural angles that it was undeniable that his axles had been broken in the horrible accident. This was further proven when he tried in vain efforts to rise up. The resulting pain from this was even more overwhelming than the rest and he slumped down to the dirt, unyielding. The image of her beloved so stricken would be burned forever in Cornelia's memories.

He was towed off the track. The Piston Cup for 1954 went to someone else. Cornelia didn't know who… didn't care. For her, the rightful winner lost it. The terrible end of the race for Hudson Hornet was the beginning to mark the long and difficult repairs that were to be made on him. So much needed to be fixed and where to start was the true conundrum. The green Cadillac visited him when she could, but had to stay home, alone, more often than not. The weeks passed into months. She was not the only one lonely, though. In a garage across town sat a battered Hudson Hornet who felt like despite his youth, he had aged tremendously. Worry after worry plagued him. Where would his career go now? Would he ever be as fit as he once was? What about Cornelia? The poor girl! He felt horrible about leaving her alone, but until he was in decent shape to drive again, alone would be how she'd have to stay. He sighed heavily at the thought and sank further on his springs.

Although he had new headlights and the wealth of dents and scrapes on his body slowly being repaired, Hudson was still a very sad sight with his crumpled chrome grille, skewed hood ornament, and worst of all, his crooked and lower than average stance. His front axle was still damaged and the weight of his engine rested so heavily on it that there'd likely be no safe repair that could be done without replacing the whole thing. He questioned nothing else than simply what was next.

Cornelia would try to visit on Saturdays or even a Sunday so as to continue their weekend tradition even though she'd be the only one who could drive in and out of the garage. It was she who now took over some of his roles in their shared love. It was she would initiate the kiss (although he wanted to, a damaged axle meant for the time being he just couldn't), and it was she would drive up near and with gentle affection rub up against his scratched indigo sides. It was she who would never give up on him.

THE better part of a year passed before Hudson was repaired and repainted to his pre-accident glory, and even then, his meeting with fate showed. When light shone a certain way across him, the ghosts of scratches could still be seen under his paint, crisscrossing and streaking in some horrible kind of map. When he was rehabilitated he returned home, and the drive there was a certain something strange. Now when other travelers saw him, there were whispers about his being "the champion that had crashed." The youngest cars would duck out from behind their parents and ogle. The terrible photo of Hudson broken on the racetrack had been published in every major newspaper and even some not so major ones. Everyone knew about his "season ender fender bender" that put him out for the whole season.

Cornelia's joy could not be contained upon seeing him up and driving again, and she was reluctant to leave his side for long.

"I know it probably sounds silly, but sometimes I wondered if I'd ever see you again—at home." she said one evening.

He gave her a gentle smile and answered, "There's no way I'd stay away from you forever. I would have been back a whole lot sooner if it weren't for my broken axles."

"I know you would've," she murmured.

He leaned over to give her a nudge and said, "Don't sound so sad, honey. I'm back in one whole piece and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon—not for a reason like that."

"When will you return to the races?" she asked, meeting his clear blue eyes.

"Hopefully as soon as the next season starts. That gives enough time to make sure I really can still drive alright." he told her.

"Don't be foolish. You drive better than any other car out there, and you certainly drove better than whoever won that trophy that was rightfully yours." she sighed.

He gave her a kiss and when he drew back, replied, "It's just an empty cup."

They spent the rest of the year before the racing season began again enjoying one another's company and again going out for their Sunday drives. Hudson still drove perfectly well and Cornelia was comforted to know that although he had been robbed of a win in one race, he'd make up for it in future ones. He had unmistakable power and prowess. Even though he wasn't born a racecar, he was clearly meant to be one. The competition was thrilling enough, but the speed was more. He once commented to Cornelia that maintaining a legal highway speed wasn't a easy task when everything he knew told him to top a hundred when on a long straightaway. The two things stopping him though were 1., being apprehended by the law and 2., he had no training racing on asphalt. Dirt was what he knew. If the main roads _were_ dirt and there _weren't_ law enforcement around though…

Cornelia laughed whenever he'd leave this thought hanging in the air.

"You know you still wouldn't do it." she chastised.

"You're right. I wouldn't. I'm not a crazy hotshot." he'd agree.

WHEN training season began anew, Cornelia was certain the racing community missed her Hudson. "They've not seen you in such a long time, they might just forget what you looked like!" she teased him.

"You think that could happen?" he asked, playing along.

"It's possible, but I think your trademark paintjob will stir anyone's memory. Not every car is driving around with 'Fabulous' written on his sides in tall yellow letters, Hudson." she said, smiling.

"It's a good thing I'm not an egotist, isn't it? That'd be a ticket for it." he answered.

"I won't deny the fact you're fabulous, though." she offered.

"And you are remarkable, Cornelia. You know, I could have someone at Thomasville paint that on you: The Remarkable Cornelia Hornet. What a pair we'd make then!" he chuckled.

"I'll pass! I'd rather remain inconspicuous, Mister." she giggled.

He left for a weekend to participate in training season and although he still wore the scars of his accident under his paintwork, the fact it was all fresh and new gave him a certain measure of confidence upon returning after being out for so long. Despite the horror that had occurred on it, he was looking forward to seeing the track again. He was even looking forward to being back in business and having odd little Jimmy asking him a thousand and one questions.

When he pulled into the speedway, there were already many other cars gathered who would test their might and be judged on whether they had what it took to be a good racer. Hudson pulled up where an empty space allowed, and both cars on either side of him cast him a strange look he couldn't quite decipher. He didn't bother worrying about it though. He simply sat there in the summer heat, looking his best to anyone who'd see him. As time wore on though, he couldn't help but wonder one thing. Why had no one welcomed him back? Even Henry Longmile hadn't really acknowledged him.

The rookies alongside of Hudson were spoken with and considered for training, and a fair portion of them cast the indigo car that same strange look. He was more than a little confused, but still didn't react to it. The sleek black car who was checking out the rookies came closer and closer to where he sat, and he straightened up, anticipating the acknowledgement he'd be sure to receive. When the black car with grey eyes stopped before him, he glanced down at his papers and said to the indigo racer, "Weren't you in the accident?"

"I was, but I got fixed up very well since," Hudson answered compliantly.

"I see. Look… there's something I got to tell you," the black car said. "A lot has changed since you were last here. Things have improved. Technology has gotten even better than we thought it could be."

Warily, Hudson asked, "What are you driving at?"

The official rolled his eyes in exasperation and said, "I don't have a lot of time, but let me put it how it is, fella. You're history."

The indigo car backed up and asked, "I beg your pardon…?"

"I said ' _you're history!_ '" he spat, and moved right on to the next rookie standing in line.


	9. Chapter 9

9~

Hudson Hornet knew even under the cover of denial what that simple two-word statement meant. Times hadn't just changed at Thomasville; they had over the whole country. In a year past, the world was expecting something different than a well-trained car whose trademark talent was a faultless drift. Not many other cars could ever do that, but apparently, even it wasn't enough to keep him in the ranks of racing. He knew there was no going backwards now and as he drove slowly home, all he could hear was that voice telling him he was history.

Cornelia was barely capable of containing her eagerness the entire time her husband was gone, but the moment he returned and she saw something overshadowing the normally brilliant blue of his eyes, her motor ran cold. Something was wrong.

"How did it go?" she tried to ask casually.

He looked up from his shiny hood and said quietly, "Worse than I ever could have imagined, Cornelia."

"What happened…?" she asked.

He sighed. "I guess I went back expecting a big welcome. After being gone so long, I thought maybe they'd miss me, not just as a racer but as a friend. They didn't. But that's not what is the worst."

"Yes?" she urged softly.

"You know what they said to me? 'You're history.' They moved right on to the next rookie standing in line."

"Oh, Hudson…" she gasped. This wasn't at all what she expected.

He met her gaze with those handsome eyes that held more sadness than not in their azure hue. "I've seen this happen before; it's over for me, Cornelia. I'll never be a racecar again."

HIS racing colors mocked him. He could not stand to even see a hint of his reflection in any of the plate-glass windows on Main Street. 'Fabulous' had become a lie. He only tolerated this for so long before he told Cornelia he'd be gone for awhile. Don't worry, he said, I'll be back as soon as possible. He didn't tell her of his intent and gently stopped her from coming. It'd be better if she didn't.

He drove far away. As far from Thomasville as he could get. He no longer felt at home there; he felt more like a stranger than a native. He drove on the main thoroughfare of Route 66 for miles and miles and many miles more. When briefly stopped at the many gas stations along the way, he shuttered any questions from fellow motorists about his paintjob. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to relive that horrible day at the track when he got the news his career was over. That part of his life was over, and he wanted to make sure it showed.

Weary, he finally stopped for the night in a town called Radiator Springs. He spent the dark hours at their Cozy Cone Motel and although the proprietor had questions in his eyes about this visitor, he didn't voice them. Hudson was grateful for that. He just wanted to be left alone. On the dawn of the next day, the first thing he noticed was a business called Ramone's House of Body Art. Various painted hoods were displayed in the windows. He couldn't believe his luck. He had finally found what he had wanted at the edge of the Cadillac Range.

A vibrant purple Chevrolet Impala burst out when Hudson pulled up at the business. "Hey man! You here for business?! I just got a shipment of reds that'd look _muy bueno_ on you!"

"I am actually interested—but not in the reds." the indigo car replied.

"Well, come on in, man. Let's discuss it." the Impala said, spinning around and leading the way.

"I want to be repainted. All the way." the racecar told him a few minutes later.

" _Si_ , okay. But then we need to put those letters back on. 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet.' Say man, are you a racecar?"

Hudson stiffened at that, but didn't offer any definite answer. "About that. I want all of it painted the blue that's on the rest of me."

"You want it painted _over_ the letters?" the Impala asked, confused.

"Yes, over them. I want the words and flags and numbers gone. Completely gone."

 _Gone just like how my career is…_ he thought.

HE drove back to his hometown looking like a simple daily-driver, an average Hudson Hornet. No one looked at him in an unusual way when he drove down those streets where he had been hailed before. He drove past the Thomasville Speedway without a second glance. He couldn't think about that again. That part of his life was over.

Cornelia's eyes grew wide when she saw a solid indigo-blue Hudson return to her. "You… you got repainted." she whispered.

"It's best in the long run," he told her.

"Then…. you've really quit?" she asked.

"I didn't quit, dear. It was they who quit on me." he told her.

A somber sort of air lingered for a long while in the weeks ahead, but it was Hudson who opted to try to banish it for good. "It's time we move forward, Cornelia. I can't change the past. This probably would have happened even if I didn't crash last year. Unfortunately, things just change." he told her.

"But, you're the best racecar in the world. I knew that from the very first race I saw you in." she countered.

"Maybe so, but I can't bring that back. I don't have to like it, but I have to look ahead. Looking backwards isn't going to get me anywhere. What happened makes me depressed, but seeing you upset makes me feel worse. Cheer up, darling. We still have each other. Aside from losing my job, I've not changed at all."

A hint of a smile played across her front bumper and she said, "Yes you have. Your paint's changed."

He encouraged her smile with his own and said, "True. But, I haven't heard you say anything about it. It makes me wonder if you don't like me all one drab color."

She laughed and said, "Hold on. Let me get a good look at you." She backed up a few feet and looked over the bigger car before her. He wore a polished indigo finish from front to back, so shiny that the scratches beneath it weren't the first thing anyone would notice. His chrome trim had been fixed and shined so well after his accident that it gleamed as if it were finer silver. He now permanently wore white-wall tires topped off with shiny chrome rims and hubcaps and his sleek frame looked all the longer because of the skirts he now wore all the time over his back tires. The crowning glory was the great chromed ornament that defiantly claimed attention on his hood.

"Well?" he asked, amused at her lengthy review.

She looked up again and said, "You're a very, _very_ handsome guy. The first thing I want to do when I look at you is just kiss you."

He winked and answered, "Well, I'm not stopping you, honey. To be honest, whenever my gaze lands on a gorgeous green Cadillac with some very fine curves, I wouldn't mind doing the same."

"Am I stopping _you_?" she asked.

"Come to think on it… no. You asked for it, Cornelia Hornet." he answered, slowly approaching her.

"I can handle anything you throw my way, Hudson. And there's something you should know, also." she began.

He reluctantly braked and asked, "Yes, my dear?"

She looked at him with her clear and lovely gaze and said, "The world may have forgot you, but to me you're always going to be fabulous."


	10. Chapter 10

10~

Time went on and another year passed. The union between the Hornets remained loving and good, but for Cornelia, seemed to lack just one thing. She hadn't outright hinted at it yet, thinking maybe her husband would see it obvious, but if he had, he didn't say anything either. Finally she felt like if she didn't open her mouth, this roundy-round could go on forever. The clock would tick eternal at that rate and although she was patient, she wasn't _that_ patient.

It was a warm evening in early spring, pleasant before the heat wave came to herald summer. She had playfully initiated the kiss with her husband, and he never could resist or deny the affection. He would always return it with an even greater amount of ardor, the type that he had shown that first time on their honeymoon. When he treated her like that, she never wanted the feeling to stop.

"You're the best husband I could ever ask for, Hudson. I'm very glad you're the racecar I set my heart on in 1951 and never forgot about." she told him.

"For the happiness you've given me, I'm glad too. You're the sort of fan every racer wishes he had but only very few get. Thankfully, I was one of those few." he told her.

She smiled. "There's something missing in our life, though, you know."

"Missing?" he asked. She couldn't tell if he was playing confused or was genuinely lost, but laughed either way and said, lightly nuzzling his front left fender, "Of course, Hudson. If you're as smart as you are handsome, you should know what I'm talking about."

"Care to refresh my memory?" he asked.

"If you insist," she said, feigning exasperation. With that, she pulled back and commenced to settle as low on her shocks as possible, which very nearly made her lowest chrome trimming meet the floor. She fixed the larger male car with an amorous look, lowering her eye-rims.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she purred.

He looked across his sleek hood and answered, "Of course I know what that means."

"Then if you do, that means you ought to know I'm finally prepared for something additional that I've held off on so far," she continued.

He scrutinized her. "You're talking in riddles, darling, and you have to know that you looking like that affects me in some certain way also."

She winked and replied, "Then why don't you act on that and give me a baby, Mister Hudson Hornet. I'm sure a handsome boy like you is plenty capable of that next step."

He seemed to briefly hesitate but then slowly came over to her and asked, "You sure about that?"

"About my want or about your capabilities?" she asked back.

"I don't know… both?"

"I'm sure on both counts. I'd like to be a parent and I'm sure you're able." she answered.

He leaned down on his front axle to kiss her, and as she could have known, the deep passion of it maybe couldn't make her truly melt, but she did sink all the way to the floor.

"Hudson, Hudson… you're the world's best racecar and the world's best lover." she murmured when he had slightly drew back. He pulled alongside to amorously rub up against her flank and said, "I hope you're sure about what you want, because there's not much going back now."

She leaned into his touch and answered, "I'm going to tell you what you've always told me, Hudson. There's nothing you can offer me that I can't handle."

A MONTH later, on the way home from a Sunday drive, Cornelia turned to Hudson and said, "I've been thinking…"

"About…?" he prompted.

"I'd like to go on a trip. I just… I don't know how to say this, but I just don't feel as happy in this town as I used to. I think it's what happened to you that did it." she said.

"But I thought you still liked the races." he replied.

"I haven't gone to a one of them since your accident. I guess it's not the racing scene I really enjoyed so much as it was _you_ doing the racing. It's just not as special to me now."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that?" he gently asked.

"I'm sure. Watching you is what made me fall in love with the sport, but once they failed you… I don't know. I don't want to see them anymore. If I did, all that would happen would be I'd just come home sad because I'm married to the most wonderful racecar the circuit will ever know, and it's because of dumb changes that they've denied you your glory… what you were born to do."

"But changes can't be stopped, honey. We don't have to like them, though, just like I told you. I miss going fast and I sure miss the thrill of drifting, but I have to accept what I am now. I'm a retired racecar; a city driver that probably won't go over 60 miles-per-hour the rest of my life." he told her.

"I feel bad for you…" she sighed.

"Don't. I'm getting used to it. That's all I can do, Cornelia." he said with his typical serene smile.

She fell quiet almost until they got home, and then she paused. "Could we go on a trip then one day?"

"We can whenever you'd like. I'd be happy to take you wherever you desire."

THE summer heat fell upon the town as heavy as ever, but Cornelia reacted horribly to it more than she had in the past. She felt not only ill but simply cranky in a lot of ways also. Worried, her husband tried to pry whatever info out of her that he could, not usually succeeding. Cranky was to put it mildly, really.

"Please just tell me what's wrong, Cornelia. I'm concerned about you. You haven't gone out in days now and that isn't like you." he said from where he had stopped before her.

She sighed and replied, "I've told you half a dozen times already: I just don't feel well. What more do you want to know?"

"Your symptoms?" he offered.

She shifted on her tires and said, "I don't mean to break it to you, Hudson, but the last time I looked, you're not a doctor."

It was his turn to sigh. "I know that, Cornelia. I just want to know how you feel."

"Fine. I don't have any get-up-and-go, I'm more tired than you could ever know, and I'm revolted by the sight of a can of oil. Figure out anything from that, Einstein?"

"No, of course not. I'm just trying to remember when you first started feeling this way. It's been at least a good three weeks. Maybe 4."

"Yes. Maybe it'll be 3 or four more also. Who knows." she grumbled.

"I think you'd be doing yourself some good if you did go to a doctor. I really am worried about you." he pressed.

She looked up, meeting blue eyes that held only concern in them, and finally relented. "Alright, Hudson. I'll go."

The day of her appointment she was vehement about Hudson not coming, so he reluctantly stayed home and waited impatiently for her return, and what a return it ended up being. The moment she came back and caught sight of him, she raced up to him with more verve than she had showed in too long. He was so caught off guard that when she pounced, his back end collided against the wall with a solid bang.

"Give a guy a bit of a warning, girl! I don't see you up and about in weeks, and next thing I know, you're running me into walls!" he said with a laugh, more glad than anything to see her happy.

"Hudson, Hudson! Oh, I've got some good news!" she cried, her lovely green eyes sparkling with joy.

"Well, don't keep it to yourself, darling!" he replied.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" she giggled.

"How long do you plan on making me wait?" he asked.

"You don't think you can guess the news?"

"I doubt it. I never was good at games like that." he admitted.

"Alright then," she said, backing up slightly to give him room. When he pulled forward, she gave him a feisty little wink and continued, "We're going to have a baby, Hudson!"

His jaw dropped and no words came. Cornelia giggled and said, "Pick that bumper of yours off the floor, Hudson Hornet. It's all true, and what a lucky child it'll be to have a sweet and impressive fellow like you for it's daddy.


	11. Chapter 11

11~ 

Hudson worried about Cornelia's safety and made sure she knew about it, but nothing would sway the pretty green Cadillac from wanting to go on a trip. The one condition he had that he would not bend on though would be she'd wait until summer was over. She chastised him for thinking "delicate condition" meant she was truly delicate, but underneath all that, she was glad he was so caring.

When the cool weather came and seemed to want to stay, he pulled up to her and said, "Alright, you wanted your vacation. Now is as good of a time as any to go, darling."

She smiled instantly and replied, "Finally! I'll be so glad to get out of here for awhile and see something different!"

"Well, what do you want to see?" he asked.

"You said a few intriguing things about that town where you got repainted. What was it called again, Hudson?"

"Radiator Springs? You want to see a desert?"

"Not just any desert, handsome. A Cadillac has to put her tires on the sands of the Cadillac Range, you know." she laughed.

He smiled. "You have a point. Alright, I'll take you there. It's a pretty small community and I don't know how much there is for you to see, but I'll lead the way."

"Think they'll remember you?" she asked.

He recalled the day he drove into town. There were many travelers already there, and he knew he was not the only Hudson Hornet to cruise past the welcome sign. "I don't think so, honey. I don't stand out too much in this one-color paint."

They left that weekend and toured the many miles of Route 66 leading towards the small hamlet situated in the shelter of the beautiful red rock mountains. The Cadillac was in awe of the overlooks along the way and thought she had seen a prettier sunset that night than what she ever thought was possible. The colors reflecting off of the crimson and orange rocks was true Technicolor.

They arrived in Radiator Springs the following day. Although Hudson could have easily made the long trip in one day, he wasn't interested in making it too arduous for Cornelia in her condition, even though she insisted she was in "fair fettle." He could see she was weary at day's end, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

The jade-green Cadillac became animated the moment she followed her husband past the sign declaring a welcome to the town.

"Oh, it's so quaint! And look at that hotel—it's cones! To think, we usually avoid them and yet here we could stay in them! Cozy Cone, how very sweet. We'll have to stay there so I can tell my dad about it. He'll be horrified!" she laughed.

Before anymore could be said, they were intercepted in the heart of town by a beautiful two-tone mint-green car with soaring tailfins and dazzling chrome-work.

"Well, hello travelers! If you're feelin' a quart low, stop at Flo's V8 Café; the finest fuel on Route 66!" she said with a big smile and a welcoming voice. Cornelia happily returned the smile and replied, "I think I might be feeling a couple quarts low!"

"Well, stop on over anytime, honey!" the finned beauty told before being hailed by a yellow Cord at her station.

The Cadillac turned her attention to her husband and said, "I've not even been here an hour and I already like it, Hudson. Why don't we get ourselves one of those cute cones for the night and then see what the rest of the town has to offer?"

He took his engine out of park and replied as he set it into first gear, "That sounds like a decent plan, darling. Let's see what they can provide."

At the motel, the same proprietor from before—a silver 1946 Buick—operated the front desk, but he didn't show any recognition when the sleek dark blue car pulled in with his wife at his side.

"And what can I do for you two weary travelers?" the Buick asked with a warm grin.

"I'd like a room for the night, please." Hudson told.

"Single or double, sir?" he asked while shuffling some papers.

Cornelia and her husband shared a smile before he said, "Double would be most suitable and more roomy, I'm sure."

"Right you are. Alrighty, what's your name, please?" the proprietor asked.

"Hudson Hornet."

"That's your make and model, friend. I need your name." the Buick said.

"That _is_ my name," he responded. Cornelia stifled a laugh.

"Wait. Don't mean to be rude, but… your folks named you after what you are?" the Buick said, looking stunned.

"They sure did. My dad wasn't the most creative machine on 4 wheels." the blue car told with his typical good humor.

The Buick chuckled at that before getting back to business and asking, "Is there anymore occupants for your room I need to be knowing about?"

The Hudson Hornet shook his hood for no. "Alright then, just you two." the proprietor affirmed.

Cornelia came forward and corrected, giving her husband a sweet smile, "Just us two—for now."

The stately silver car seemed to read between the lines and said, "Well, congratulations to you both! You oughta come on back when the little one gets control of the tires beneath it."

"We just might do that," Hudson said, offering his own casual smile.

"Alright now, this here's your room." the silver Buick said as he pulled up before a cone at the end of the row. "This is the quietest way back here; figured that'd be what you wanted. Sometimes we get a rowdy bunch or two in the front and the more mild-tempered married couples get a little put off by that."

"I appreciate your consideration. Neither Cornelia nor I are the wild type." the indigo-blue car said.

"Didn't think you were," the proprietor said as he opened the room door. "Okay now. Here's the spread. It's much bigger on the inside than you think it'd be. The room comes equipped with a clock radio, which is a real nice touch. That there phone is good for local and inter-country calls, but the ones outside of here are going to cost you a little extra. We just have a couple rules: don't be loud and up at all hours creating racket, pick up after yourself and don't be a bother to the other lodgers during the day. Not that I think you would, but I have to tell the policy. One last thing is that there's a free Lincoln Continental breakfast in the lobby. It starts at 7 and goes till 10. Make sure you check it out first thing, because the High Performance Floats go fast."

"What's a High Performance Float, sir?" Cornelia asked as she pulled up slightly before her companion.

The stately Buick looked to her and said, "It's a thing that gives you plenty of zip to start the day, but I don't know if it'd be good, given your delicate condition, Miss."

"I'm _not_ delicate, I swear to it! Why, I'm so tired a lot of times, I could use something to get that spark of power going under the hood." she claimed.

The Buick chuckled and said, "Alright, it's your choice. Don't blame me though if you feel like a racecar after having it."

A faint glimmer of recognition passed between Cornelia and Hudson when they looked at each other, and she said, "I could handle that, I bet."

~~~~

After getting accommodated in their cone, Cornelia expressed interest on taking a little stop over at the V8 Café the beautiful green car urged them to visit, so like the good gentleman he was, Hudson went first, scouted out a prime park for her and stood guard over it until she had finished freshening up at the motel to come join him.

"Thank you, Mr. Hornet." she sweetly said as she took the park once he pulled out.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Hornet." he answered with a warm smile. Before they could share any other banter, the same sparkling car from earlier pulled up before them and said, "I thought you'd be by soon enough! Get yourself a cone across the street?"

"Yes we did, they're very cute!" Cornelia exclaimed.

"They sho' are, honey. I hope you both enjoy your stay here in Radiator Springs. Having visitors is what makes us happy to get up and do our jobs ev'ry day. And speaking of that, what'll you two have?"

Cornelia thought for a few and finally said, "Just a quart of oil, please."

"Alright, and what about for you, Mr….?"

"Hornet. Hudson Hornet. I'll have what she's having." the blue car replied.

"Okay then. I'll be back in just a few." the green car said with a little wink.

A short while later their choices had been delivered and as they sat there and indulged in their dinner, Cornelia watched the hustle and bustle of all the other cars coming in and out of the station. Some preferred to linger like she and Hudson were doing; others simply made a stop before moving on to other parts of the town. The green car named Flo was kept almost constantly busy and the Cadillac marveled at her charisma and the swift service she offered everyone. She wasn't swift on a talk though, and would be eager to have a word or two with whoever she was assisting. Cornelia smiled. She liked everything in this little burg so much already.

When she grew slightly tired of car-watching, she turned to her husband and said, "You think you'll have one of those High Performance Floats tomorrow at the motel?"

The long blue car settled low on his shocks as he relaxed and answered, "I don't know. I guess we'll see how early I make it over there to check it all out."

"Phooey. You're an early riser and you know it. You'll be over at the crack of dawn." she said.

"And you'll be luxuriating in the cone listening to the clock radio?" he asked with humor.

"You're lucky we're in a public place, or I'd have tossed this can at you." she teased.

He feigned hurt feelings and retorted, "And get my nice paint and brightwork coated in motor oil?! Cornelia… you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

She smiled slyly and replied, "If you were a Mr. Treadwell, I would."

He offered her his own handsome smile in reply and said, "I'll be plenty glad I'm a Mr. Hornet then."

"Wouldn't want you any other way, Hudson." she answered, giving his front fender a light little nuzzle of affection.


	12. Chapter 12

12~ 

Hudson and Cornelia took a short tour of the town before evening fell, but they were both weary enough from their travels that just some peace and quiet back at motel sounded more than ideal for both. Once they had retired behind closed doors, Cornelia sank to the floor on her springs and said with a sigh, "I may not be delicate, but I sure am tired. It feels so nice to just take a load off and rest."

"I'm sure it does. Is there anything else you need?" he asked with concern.

"No, nothing. Just your companionship is all I want, even though it was exactly your companionship— _close  
_ companionship—that got me where I am today." she said with a little smile.

He looked down at where she had settled by his side and answered, "If you want my honesty, I didn't think that 'close companionship' would amount to anything. It hadn't all that time before, darling."

She laughed softly and answered, "You misjudge yourself. You're quite the robust fella, and I've seen how other girls look at you."

"They can look all they want," he said without emotion.

"Which brings to mind," Cornelia continued, as if not having heard him. "What do you think of the café lady, Flo?"

"She's good at running her business." he answered.

"True, but I wasn't meaning that. What do you really think of her?" the Cadillac pressed.

"That _is_ what I think. That and she's polite. What're you driving at, my dear?" he asked, looking perplexed.

"My mom always warned me that a guy would have 'wandering eyes' around an extremely beautiful woman even if they're married. I guess I've always worried about that; Flo is very pretty." she admitted.

Her husband was surprised. "That is what you're concerned about? Me looking at Flo?"

She met his azure eyes. "Yes…"

He leaned her way and responded as he nuzzled her, "My dear and sweet Cornelia, I meant every word of those vows when we were married. It is you whom I cherish and honor and it's you whom I pledged till death do us part. I don't have a single interest in looking at another girl."

She sighed with relief and said, "Then I don't have to worry about keeping an eye on you when you go check out the Continental breakfast tomorrow."

"Of course not. No one is prettier than you to me. If I thought that, I'd be a ridiculous fool." he assured her.

She nuzzled his more scratched up left fender, letting that say her appreciation rather than simple words.

She fell asleep leaning up against his side and she was so tired that the night came and went like a flash. The next thing she knew was the sunlight pouring through the windows of the cone. Upon opening her eyes she was surprised to see a wall of polished blue beside her, and once straightened, she met the warm and caring azure gaze of her husband.

"I know you're a guy, but I have to tell you: you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." she said before being arrested by a yawn.

He chuckled. "Well, good morning to you also, Cornelia."

She stretched and said, "I figured you'd be gone by now to see what that High Performance Float was all about, Hudson. After all, your engine is more high performance than mine will ever be!"

He smiled and said, "It's not yet ten 'o clock. I figured we'd just see what is was about together. I didn't want to wake you by leaving earlier."

She rose up to her average height after having her chassis nearly level with the floor all night. "That was considerate of you, but I doubt I'd have woke! I slept like a baby… well, maybe not! I guess I'll have to wait till our baby is around to see how well he or she will really sleep!" she said, and she and her companion shared a laugh over the thought.

When they drove into the lobby of the Cozy Cone several minutes later, the regal looking silver Buick greeted them bother before saying, "You almost didn't make it in time! There's only one Float left. Whoever wants it can have it."

"You said you were interested in trying it, so go ahead, Cornelia." Hudson urged his wife.

"If you insist," she complied. The jade-green Cadillac had only taken a single sip of before she was overcome by fierce coughing. The Buick turned to the troubled looking Hornet and said, "A lot of folks have that reaction, don't worry."

When Cornelia regained her breath, she backed away from her drink and exclaimed, "If that doesn't clear out your engine and wake you up, nothing will! It's all yours, Hudson."

"You sure?" he asked. She nodded her hood affirmative and parked over by where he sat, watching with interested eyes to see what his reaction would be to the bitter beverage. She was disappointed to see no change in his expression.  
When the Buick left to go make a check of the motel grounds, she hissed, "How on earth can you stand that sludge?!"

He smiled and replied, "Well, like you said, my engine _is_ high performance."

"I think this time you're just using a fancy excuse to say you have bad taste!" she declared.

"Maybe so. I will say it's not _the_ best thing I've ever had, true."

"He has sense after all!" Cornelia announced to the empty room.

The Cadillac got a more suitable breakfast at Flo's V8 Café and then she and her companion decided to peruse the town. Cornelia looked at each storefront, commenting about this and that until she cruised before a place called The Golden Grille – Trimming & Accessories. Her mouth gaped and her lovely spring-green eyes went wide at the window display. Hood ornaments and other adornments sat dazzling in the sun in either a yellow- or white-gold plate. She had never seen anything so grand.

"Those must be some very rich cars that wear things like that…" she mused, crossing her eyes to look down at her own hood ornament. Then she turned her attention to her husband's, which was not only was a bit larger than hers, but also an impressive rocket-like shape crowned by a dark yellow triangular figure. "Is that gold on your ornament, Hudson?" she asked.

"This?" he asked, bobbing the end of his hood. "No, no. I'm not nearly that fancy, Cornelia. It's only gold-colored. You're the one who's the much fancier type of auto."

"I don't have gold either, though! My parents didn't as well, aside from their wedding rings, and that wasn't really noticeable." she considered, taking one more glance at the shop window before moving on to see what else there was to offer.

They—or rather Hudson—was apprehended by a black Model T down at the end of the main drag by the courthouse. She pulled up before the indigo-blue car and said, "Now there's one sexy hotrod! You look like you're from the big city, boy!"

The younger car offered his charming smile and said, "No big city for me, ma'am. I don't like that hustle and bustle."

"Well then, you oughta come live here! You and the pretty girl. Is that your girlfriend?" she asked.

"My wife, actually." he said. The Cadillac pulled up, grinned and introduced herself. "My name is Cornelia and this is my husband, Hudson."

"Where are my own manners?! I'm Lizzie. It's nice to meet ya both." her cornflower-colored eyes alit on the Hornet again and she said, "You look kinda familiar. There was this fella that came some time back all dandy looking. You could tell he was a racecar. Looked just like you, aside from all the words on his sides. I think he had some handsome blue eyes of his own just like you do. Maybe you two are related?"

A barely noticeable twinge of uneasiness Cornelia noticed in her husband's eyes before it went as soon as it came. "No… we wouldn't be related. I don't know of any racecars, and there isn't any in my family."

"Hmm. Just an odd little coincidence then, I guess." Lizzie said.

"Positively," Hudson answered with a sense of relief. After other small chit-chat passed, the Model T wished them a great time in town and the young married couple continued on their way. The Cadillac though was perplexed by the meeting.

LATER that night, while retired in their cone, Cornelia turned to her husband and said, "Hudson… I have a question for you."

He tilted back on his rear shocks and said, giving her his full attention, "We'll see if I have an answer."

"Oh, you will. When we met with Lizzie today…" she began.

"Yes?"

"Why did you not tell her that that 'dandy looking' racecar was you? It almost seemed like to me that you weren't proud to admit it. It's seemed like ever since your crash you're almost… ashamed of what you were." she allowed.

A long silence fell before he answered, and the only sound was the ticking of their engines cooling down after a long day of driving around town.

"Hudson, did you hear what I said?" Cornelia finally prompted.

He met her eyes from over his long dark hood. "Yes, my dear. I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out the best way to answer you is all."

"I'll listen to whatever way you say it first. I don't need it fancy." she replied.

"Alright then…" he said with a sigh, sinking down lower on his front. "Although I can't stop what's been in the newspapers from the years in the past, I myself would like to forget about what happened and I guess I would like to forget who I was to some point. The crash was one thing, of course. It was extremely traumatic and I consider myself real lucky that I was able to get fixed up this good from it. What was even more traumatic in its own way though was how things went when I went back. You don't expect when you're young that anything will ever knock you down. You think the world's going to sit there and wait for you no matter what happens before you show up again. You don't think you'll come back and hear that the world's changed its mind and now cheers for someone else. I guess what I'm trying to say is that no matter your line of work, you always think someone will still believe in you, someone from that old life before whatever stopped you in your tracks happened. You just don't think old friends will move on that easy."

She silently nodded and implored him to continue with her eyes.

"I went back there in '55 thinking I'd get this big welcome. But what did I get? Nothing. Nothing except being told I was history, like I was at my best not just a year before, but 10 years before. I can't tell you what that did to me other than I guess it broke me in some way, and I knew I had to move on. That's what made me get repainted as soon as I did, and that's also why I didn't tell Lizzie that I was that racecar she saw. If that world I knew could so easily forget about me and never speak another word regarding me again, then I'd like to try to forget about it just the same."

She looked down at the floor, then back up to him and said softly, "I didn't know that it affected you that deeply, Hudson. I'm sorry."

"I saw no need to bother you with the specifics." he answered. She leaned over and gently nuzzled his front fender in a comforting gesture. A pause in the conversing fell before he continued, "So far as the world of racing knows or cares, I fell off the face of the earth. They won't ask another thing about me now that they've continued moving on to newer and better things. There's only one individual that I don't mind knowing I was once a famous racecar, and she's you, Cornelia. To anyone else, I'm going to stay the common blue Hudson Hornet with too many scratches under his paint that no one will ever get the reasoning for."

She closed her eyes and asked, leaning into his side, "I'm the only one who'll ever know who you were? Even our child shouldn't know that it's father was a legend?"

He nuzzled her lightly in return and said, "It'd be best if they didn't, darling."


	13. Chapter 13

13~

Interestingly enough, the last thing the Hornets saw before starting on their way back home again was a race. The proprietor of the Cozy Cone had let them know about it.

"We have small races here sometimes, just for fun. It's a nice little event, seeing those cars tear around Willy's Butte. You might be interested. Most of the town goes out there to cheer everyone on, friendly-like." he had said.

Most of the town _did_ in fact head out to the surrounding desert for the event—enough that Hudson felt obligated to attend also, even though a race-viewing was the last thing he wanted to subject himself to.

"We don't have to go, Hudson." Cornelia said.

"If we don't, we'll look like stuck-up tourists who'd rather sit in their cone than attend something that brings everyone else some thrill and joy. It'd only be right to go."

"It's going to be hard on you…" she pointed out.

"It will," he agreed. "But I'll deal with it."

They motored out to the land known as Willy's Butte and took a place where they could be side-by-side at the small cliff overlooking the dirt track. Cornelia could see the kind Model T, Lizzie, to her left along with the beautiful Flo and some others she hadn't been acquainted with. The only car to her right was Hudson.

Looking at that racetrack sparked something in him and he forgot where he was fully. He wasn't seeing the two cars lined up to race in some informal event. He saw instead the wide and long track at the Thomasville Speedway. He saw the stands at the edge of the raceway filled with one-time watchers and die-hard fans. But more than anything, he saw the track spread out before him, beckoning. Without even realizing what he was doing, his eyes narrowed in determination and he went low on his front axles. He was close to turning over his powerful engine when suddenly Cornelia nudged him. With her touch, the vision fell away, leaving the sleek blue car feeling confused over what happened. He wasn't on the racetrack… he'd never be on one again.

"Did you hear me, Hudson?" Cornelia asked, her voice sounding oddly far away even though she was right next to him.

"…What did you say?" he finally replied after rising to his average carriage.

"I said that this race doesn't make me feel happy; let's go back." the Cadillac answered.

He met her lovely eyes. "I understand, darling. I understand more than I can hope to say." 

They returned drove the way back to town in silence and met a town of equal quiet. It seems everyone _was_ going out to the track, even the few tourists who had come in at this later hour, for they were notified of the "exciting event" from flyers in the windows of the V8 Café.

"Everyone's there except us." Hudson said more to himself than to anyone else.

"Well, that's fine." Cornelia answered as she pulled up beside him.

He looked over at her, the late afternoon sun beautifully lighting his blue eyes and making his chrome-work sparkle. "Are you sure you wanted to leave?" he finally asked.

She glanced momentarily the way they had come and then meeting his eyes answered, "Yes, dear. I am entirely sure. The memories were too hard."

"Then you had them, too." he acknowledged quietly.

Cornelia looked around the empty street where they had stopped and said as she gazed at the long road ahead of them, "I saw those two cars, but I guess I didn't really see them. Instead I saw you before the world you knew—we both knew—shattered. But it's your part of the world I saw more."

He met her gaze to some unknown point on the horizon. "I saw the track laid out before me, more inviting than I can say. Everything I knew told me to race. I didn't see _this_ event… I saw Thomasville."

Cornelia met his eyes, which still focused on some distant point. He saw without really seeing. A defeated look bedimmed his normally sharp and clear blue gaze. He sighed heavily and turned over his engine once more. To her he said, "Come on, let's go back to the motel."

She restarted her own motor and quietly followed his lead. 

Back at their cone, a conversation seemed loathe to start and again the metronomic ticking of their cooling motors filled the silence. The Cadillac had pulled up next to her husband and gently leaned into his polished indigo side. Although one reason she did this was because she was tired, the greater reason was to offer him some measure of comfort. All she could think about was the radiant day in 1953, not so terribly long ago, when she first met the one she knew only as the famed Fabulous Hudson Hornet, a champion in his own right who took the racing circuit by storm and ruled it well even though his humble nature never let on to that. He was young and at the top of his game. He was still young, of course, but what had happened to him added some older element to his appearance.

She quietly sighed and said, "I'm sorry about this race, Hudson. I think we would have been happier staying here, even if some _did_ call us 'stuck-up' tourists."

There was a pause and then, "I guess you're right, Cornelia."

"Sometimes," she continued, "we have to do what's right for us, even if others label us because of it. We can't live life worrying about what others will say."

He offered a smile that was wan, but still charming. "What would I do without you, Cornelia? Where would I be?"

She didn't quite know how to answer, but was saved from having to.

"Cornelia, you saved me," he continued. "That may sound crazy, but it's true. If I didn't have you in my life, I don't know where I would have been after my crash. From the moment that faulty drift caused me to roll, I knew there'd be a pretty high chance I'd be done for. All those months I spent getting repaired just added to that, but the way I kept my spirits up was thinking about you, knowing that you waited back at home for my return, however it'd be. On those first few dark weeks when I was stuck there on my broken front axle, you were the only thing I could think about. And I admit, I was also worried."

"Worried about me?" she asked, perplexed.

He held her gaze and replied, "In some ways, yes. What happened to me was a horrible event for anyone, but more for a couple. It puts a lot of stress on a bond like that, and I don't blame anyone who'd have a hard time coping. Dealing with a tragic accident can create a rift between two that may not start off as much but can sometimes go as deep and as wide as the Grand Canyon. It'll separate the two to the point where they feel there's nothing more they can do than end their union. I was wondering if that'd end up happening to you and I."

She felt astonished and when she finally regained her senses said, "Hudson, I've never told you this, but I think it's something you need to hear. From the day I first saw you race, I was smitten with you. I now understand _you_ were the reason I kept going to the races more than anything else. Then there came the race of '52. My infatuation for you grew, and by the time 1953 came around, do you know what happened?"

Before he could answer she stated, "I fell in love with you, Hudson Hornet. Even though I knew you no other way than what the radio and newspapers said before our meeting, I still loved you and I know if I'd never had the chance I did, I would have never stopped loving you, even if you had a crash like you did that put you out of the circuit. Before the race I met you at, I would spend my late hours before falling asleep envisioning a future that anyone else would say was a fantasy. I envisioned myself no longer as Miss Cornelia Eldorado, but instead as Mrs. Cornelia Hornet. Do you think that once this dream came true and the sweetest and most charming fellow I've ever met asked me to marry him, I'd throw that all away when something happened to you that wasn't your fault?"

"I didn't know any of that…" he said, now looking stunned himself.

"Well, now you know." she replied in her average and soft tone. "I am the luckiest girl in the world to have had that luck and nothing will ever make me deny that. After all, where else would I even _find_ a fellow who can kiss this here lady as well as you do? I'm not going to get friendly with every shiny chrome grille and front bumper I see, dearest."

At her subtle hinting, he gave her just the kiss she desired, and once they parted the Cadillac smiled peacefully and said, "That alone would make me stay married to you. All of your other charms along with it are a killer. You're stuck with me for life, handsome guy."

This time he presented her with his best smile and said, "I reckon I can handle that, my dear girl."


	14. Chapter 14

14~

In the following hours they made their plans for the subsequent day and agreed it'd be as good of a time as any to start heading back home. Before all of that though, one of the last things Hudson did was run a short but important errand.

"Can I come?" Cornelia asked when he had pulled out onto the gravel lot of the motel. Her eyes implored and although under any other instance he would have given in, he couldn't now.

"I'm afraid I have to say no this time, dear." he replied.

She pouted. "You sure better not be making a stop at the V8 Café to look at Flo's tailfins. That better not have been a tall tale about your faith to me, Mister, or you'll hear it."

"No, Cornelia. I am not going to look at Flo's tailfins." he reassured with a humored smile.

"Good. Do you plan on looking at any other tailfins, trunks or bumpers?" she asked, but with wit.

He shook his dark blue hood and replied, "No to that also. I don't plan on looking at any other trunk or bumper beside your own fine examples, Cornelia."

"Oh, you rascal. You can pay for that risqué comment later." she said, smirking.

"Consider it a date then, honey. I'll be there." he answered.

He slowly drove down the main drag among all of the others who had stopped on their way through to parts unknown and while they also shopped at other storefronts, there was only one on his mind to patronize: The Golden Grille – Trimming & Accessories.

The store owner was exactly what Hudson could have expected; an impressive Duesenberg of dark burgundy paint so highly polished that it reflected everything around it. His own grille was fittingly gold-plated as were the housings for his headlights and Chrysler only knew how many other fixtures held the same plating. His grey eyes alighted on Hudson and he said, "Well, what can I do for you, friend? Looking to fancy yourself up for the ladies? If so, I got just the things that'll make them go absolutely wild. You won't know what hit you, pal. The moment you get rid of that passé chrome grille of yours and plate it gold, they'll never leave you alone. Count on it. If not, come to Vaughn Randolph Brakewell the Third and I'll plate your hood ornament, your bumpers, your little insignias and all that other—for a price, of course. Girls won't know what hit 'em, I say. Want to really drive 'em wild? Get your undercarriage plated. You'll be busier than a one-wheeled police car in a heist."

Hudson reversed back a step at what only could be called a case of information overload. Vaughn Randolph Brakewell III simply turned his sparkling front bumper into a cool smile. The indigo car took a deep breath and finally said, "Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm married."

Vaughn shrugged and said, leaning over to Hudson, "Well, the married girls love all that plated too. Keep it in mind, friend."

"I'm honestly not in the least bit interested." he said dryly.

The gilt Duesenberg nodded his long hood in understanding. "Well, tell Vaughn what you need and what you're looking for, then."

Hudson looked at a display nearest him and answered, "I'm looking for something for my wife."

Vaughn Randolph Brakewell III rose up on his shocks and said with that same cool smile, "You're really missing out on not getting that undercarriage plated, friend."

"She wouldn't be interested either," the indigo car said with eyes narrowed in a way that told the subject was closed. The Duesenberg lowered his own eye rims and replied, "Alright. What do you think of a gilt hood ornament then?"

"That intrigues me," Hudson answered.

Vaughn slowly cruised over to a display by the window where the decorations within glittered. Once the sun hit the burgundy Duesenberg, his own golden touches glared sharply, casting reflected light throughout the whole shop. The Hudson Hornet squinted against the blinding onslaught. Vaughn motioned to the glass case and said, "Now, these are _real_ hits with the ladies. Fellas come in here all the time to buy trinkets for rental-girls they know and old geezers get 'em for their old women on anniversaries. Those flivvers love 'em even though the gold on them looks as out of place as I'd look hauling trash at some dump."

Hudson looked at the display. There was every sort of ornament imaginable, from the odd to the elegant. The one that caught his eye over all the others though was one that had sweeping Art Deco style with graceful fanned molding at the base which joined up to form a brilliant projection that was a touch longer than his own ornament.

"I like that one," he said.

Vaughn smiled that same cool grin again. "Good choice. That one's popular with the girls. It'll run you about 150, but the look you get when she receives it will be priceless. By the way, you never told me what your wife was."

Hudson looked up from the glimmering gold. "She's a Cadillac."

"What color?"

"She's a unique shade of green. Not quite emerald, not mint. Just something that's really pretty is all I know, even if it doesn't have a name." he answered.

"Well, this gold will look swell on her, friend. Is this little piece of décor what you desire?"

He nodded.

"Alright then," the burgundy Duesenberg continued. "Bring her back tomorrow and my flunky will put it on for her. He has the day off today, the slacker, but tomorrow he'll be back. Bring her in and we'll trade that dull chrome she's got now for something that'll make her the talk of the town."

~~~~~~~~

Hudson returned to the Cozy Cone as afternoon crossed the invisible line to become early evening. The neon lights had been turned on throughout town, casting every color onto the shining cars that traversed beneath it. The letters forming "VACANCY" at the Cozy Cone flickered periodically.

Cornelia must have been watching for his return, for as soon as he pulled up to their designated cone, the door went up and he found himself looking at the beautiful jade-green Cadillac he called his wife. She smiled warmly, the orange glow from their lit-up cone and others near it reflecting on her polished chrome accents.

"Hello, Hudson." she greeted.

He pulled up before her and said, "Well, hello to you as well, darling."

"Have a nice time without me?" she asked.

"Of course not, but I had my reason." he permitted.

"Well, for whatever reason that was, you'll be having a much nicer time _with_ me." she answered, smiling again. The light breeze that had been up conveniently seemed to turn a different direction and all of a sudden the indigo car discovered the most arresting perfume.

"What on earth are you wearing?" he asked, coming closer to her.

She offered a flirtatious wink and said, "It's called 'New Car Fragrance.' The label says, 'You may not be a new car, but you sure can pretend you are.' Now, get in here and tell me how you like it."

When the door had been shut behind them, the Cadillac asked her question again. "So, tell me what you think of it, Hudson."

"I think it's incredible. You could cause a real traffic jam if you drove by a bunch of fellas wearing that." he said.

She laughed softly and answered, "Well, that isn't happening. Now… what is it right now I'm _not_ wearing?"

He smirked. "You really weren't kidding when you said I'd pay for that compliment I gave you earlier, were you?"

"I sure wasn't, big guy." she purred. He leaned over to get a good look at her, but it didn't take long to see what was missing. His striking azure eyes met hers once more.

"It looks like to me you're not wearing your skirts."

"Absolutely correct," she murmured as she nuzzled her fender against his. He naturally returned it but did have a question. "I didn't think you'd want to be such a flirt still, Cornelia."

"Because I'm in this 'delicate condition,' as everyone's called it?" she asked as she drew back to look him in the eye.

"Well, yes." he allowed.

She gave him a lovely smile and answered, "I'm more tired than I'd be normally, but I don't feel so bad otherwise now. And even then, I'm not so tired that I can't enjoy a nice date with the robust racecar that got me this way." She finished with a playful wink, the second since he had returned.

"Don't give me an engine-attack, honey. You remember what I said about the majority of the males in the Hornet lineage being affected by that. Don't make mine give out this soon." he warned but with humor.

"You're too young and tough for that. If you can handle a race, you can handle me." she smiled.

"Well, there's a difference between the two though," he said, settling lower on his shocks. "The race is dirty, has its fair amount of worry and doesn't come with an absolutely dizzying New Car Fragrance."

She laughed softly. "Okay, that's true. You've got a point. I'll try my best to not make your ol' motor run too hard, big guy."

He leaned over to lovingly nuzzle her fender and said, "You keep up like that and it'll be a hopeless effort, Cornelia Hornet."

THEY had gone to The Golden Grille first thing then next day, Hudson playing it casual and Cornelia remaining confused of why on earth there was any need to window-shop _inside_ when she could see the plethora of wealth from the casement window _outside_. And then when Vaughn Randolph Brakewell III called his "flunky" out to assist the green Cadillac, the mood changed from confusion to incredibly stunned. When her chrome hood ornament was replaced with a gleaming gold one, her jaw dropped.

"All that glitters certainly can be gold," the burgundy Duesenberg said with his polished smile.

The combination of Cornelia's beautiful green paired with the brilliant and sparkling gold ornament was far more gorgeous than Hudson could have imagined. "I'm compelled to say you look very striking, darling." he told her.

She had no words though. Instead she turned around to pin him against the nearest wall and kissed him soundly. When it came to some matters, actions spoke a lot louder than words. 

"Hudson, I don't even have any words!" she exclaimed when they had returned to their cone a few minutes later.

"I don't need anything fancy, Cornelia." he replied.

"Saying 'thank you' though just doesn't seem adequate. It seems too dull for something as wonderful as this!" she continued.

"I think the look in your eyes was more than enough. That spoke volumes." he assured.

"I just never, ever thought I'd have a gold hood ornament, ever."

"Well, you know what they say; never say never." he answered, smiling.

"I guess that's true. Thank you, Hudson. I love you so much." she replied in a soft tone.

"I love you just the same, Cornelia." he responded.


	15. Chapter 15

15~

Two days later, Hudson and Cornelia returned to Thomasville and one of the first things the Cadillac did was telephone her parents to share with them the wonderful vacation she had had, and also the stunning gift her husband had bestowed upon her. She almost constantly looked at the glimmering decoration at the tip of her hood; it seemed incredible she had something so ritzy. No one in her family had ever even had something like this. It made her feel incredibly special.

The phone was picked up on the fifth ring.

"Eldorado residence," her father's voice said sharply.

"Hello Dad! It's me," she cheerily greeted.

"Cornelia? Haven't heard from you ever since you dropped the bomb about you and that racecar having a kid. Your mom fainted and I had to throw cold rags on her cab for two hours to revive her."

"I just got back from vacation, Dad."

"Oh? Where'd you go?"

"Hudson took me to this dear little town called Radiator Springs. It was in the Ornament Valley, off of Highway 66. Oh, it's was so wonderful, Dad!" she exclaimed.

"Radiation Stinks? Doesn't sound like the kind of place for a high-class auto like you."

" _Radiator Springs_ , Dad. We stayed in this cute little hotel where the rooms were shaped like traffic cones. It was called the Cozy Cone."

"Traffic cones? Chrysler on a conveyor belt at the Detroit mill." Charles Eldorado muttered.

Cornelia ignored his obvious disgust and chattered on. "It was really very cute."

"Sounds seedy to me," the elder Cadillac said.

Instead of uselessly trying to change her father's mind, the younger turned her focus to the gleaming trim upon her hood. "Dad, you'd never guess what Hudson bought me while we were there. I'm looking at it right now."

"Did he get you a tacky and tasteless traffic cone souvenir?" Charles asked with dryness.

" _Oh, Dad!_ No, nothing like that. Something so much better. There was this shop there called The Golden Grille and it was run by this Duesenberg—"

"Duesenbergs are nothing but trouble and they all think their exhaust doesn't stink."

"Dad… I'm trying to tell you something here. The Golden Grill has gold-plated trimmings and things like that. It's really pretty stuff. Hudson surprised me with a gold-plated hood ornament. It's so beautiful. I can't take my eyes off it!"

On the other end of the wire, the dark-green Cadillac sat up abruptly on his shocks, his attention gripped.

"A gold-plated hood ornament you say? Now that is a fine bauble for a high-quality girl like you. I'm surprised that racecar would think about something like that. I toss a shred of approval his way." he said.

"Oh, Dad… he's an absolutely wonderful husband in every sense of the word. I'm so lucky."

There fell a pause and then Charles answered, "Well… I'm glad you're happy, Cornelia."

If his daughter had to love a racecar, active or not, at least it was a good thing if she was glad, and it certainly sounded like she was, he thought.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"I've been thinking…" Cornelia started.

She and her husband had returned from a Sunday drive a few weeks after they'd returned to Thomasville and were now just watching the lights come on over the more populous areas of town.

"Thinking about what, my dear?" he asked her.

She smiled. "I've been trying to figure out what some good names will be for our son or daughter. I can't say I've really figured out many names for a girl yet, but I'm decided on what for a son."

He let his azure gaze rest on her and replied, "Why don't you tell me?"

"Hudson Hornet the Second." she answered.

He looked at her with an entirely different expression that was so priceless; Cornelia giggled and gave him a firm nudge. "I'm just joking, Hudson. Although I think your name is as handsome as you are, I respect your opinion on it."

"My father wasn't in the least bit original giving me that name, and having one of me with an uninspired name is _more_ than enough in this world." he exclaimed.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled him fondly. "Hudson, Hudson… with the charm you have, the world couldn't handle more than one of you."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked, playing along with her.

Her eyes opened and when green met blue, she said, "You'd better believe it's a good thing. That means I'm the only one to be spoiled by your brand of charisma."

~.IIIIIIIIIII.~

AROUND a month—perhaps it was nearer to 2 months—after the Hornets returned home, Hudson turned to his wife with a question that had nagged at him since the day their vacation ended. He had tossed it over and over in his mind and had tried to ignore it entirely, but somehow it just kept coming back. When that happened, he knew he couldn't keep it silent any longer.

"Cornelia, there's something important I need to talk to you about." he had began one late autumn day when nearly all of the leaves had fallen from the trees aside from just a few hardy stragglers. A slight chill had entered the air, though nothing unpleasant yet.

"What is it, Hudson? Is something wrong?" she asked, looking up from the newspaper she had been reading.

He shook his hood. "No, no. Nothing is wrong. There's just been something I've been thinking about, something I need your opinion on."

"Yes?"

He took a moment to compose what he hoped to say and then replied, "Although we weren't there for weeks at a time, I think I can be sure when I say that you liked Radiator Springs pretty well. Is that true?"

"Yes, I liked it. It's a dear town and the residents all seemed to be very kind and welcoming." she answered before asking, "Did you like it, too?"

"I did. It was a good change after… after everything that happened here. And yes, everyone was nice. That very matter has had me wondering about something for awhile now, and I just want to know what you think. How do you like Thomasville?"

She met his blue eyes from over her gleaming golden hood ornament and said, "It's not a bad town, it's alright in its own way. But…" She hesitated.

"But what?" he prodded, gently.

Cornelia sighed and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again she said, "If you want me to be honest, being so near the speedway just… saddens me. Every time we're out and I see it, my mind is mixed with memories both good and bad. Of course I think about how I watched you there since your very first race. I think about the joy and wonderful surprise I was given there when you asked me to marry you on those very grounds. But I also think about your last race and what happened. Seeing you broken on the track is an image burned forever in my mind. I thought I lost you."

He slowly came up to her and gave her fender a tender nuzzle with his own. She closed her eyes again and leaned into it. "Cornelia," he began. "When we married, I not only promised to always love and cherish you but to always keep your best interests in mind. That means your happiness, for one. Where would you be happier to live, Thomasville or Radiator Springs?"

"Well," she started, "As an answer to a general question, I imagine I'd be happier in a place where there isn't some lingering fog of bad memories, so I guess I'd say Radiator Springs, Hudson."

He gave her his typical warm smile and replied, "Who says I'm asking it as just a general question, Cornelia? What if I really mean it?"

Her mouth fell open and she gasped, "You actually mean we'd… _move?!_ "

"Why not, dear? It's difficult for me to stay here also. Just the other day when I went down to the station, this fella comes up and asks me if I know of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

"What did you say?" she quietly asked.

"I told him I'd never heard of him and I know nothing of the racing circuit. What I want for both of us is for you to be happier and for me to live somewhere where no one will know me and I can let that one part of my life die gracefully like it should. That's why I want to know if you'd be interested in moving. Soon enough I need to have some sort of job and I'd rather it start in a place we both would rather call home. Not to mention, I'd be a lot gladder for our son or daughter to grow up in a town where they'll never have to see that racetrack. Their life wouldn't lack if they never heard of Thomasville Speedway, and that's fine by me."

She awarded what he'd said with her lovely smile and replied, "None of that is a bad idea, Hudson. If we could really start over somewhere else, that's a thought."

"It may be a thought now but it can be put into action. Nothing's stopping us—nothing aside from how you'd feel for traveling again." he told her.

She came over nearer to him and with a sigh she leaned into his indigo side. Meeting his eyes, she said, "To start anew somewhere else, I feel perfectly fine. I'd rather make a move now than later. It'd be nice for our child to start his or her life from the very first second in that dear little town, I think."

He winked at her and replied, "I was thinking the same thing, Cornelia."


	16. Chapter 16

16~

Hudson and Cornelia agreed upon the idea of moving towns and now all that was left to do was set a date before the weather took any other turn for the worst. A jovial young moving van who delighted in telling jokes off of his never-ending repertoire had been hired to transport what possessions the married couple had and even though his company was crazy, it didn't fail to make the green Cadillac laugh several times.

They left their life in Thomasville the second week of November and there remained a light dusting of snow on the trees and mountainsides from a storm several days prior. As the small group drove down the main street—Hudson leading the way, the Cadillac safely in the middle, and the mover taking up the rear—Cornelia turned to look at each storefront and home a final time. She had no plans of ever coming back here, so she wanted to remember what she could of the early and happiest days she had spent here with her husband. Although Hudson's main focus was getting everyone to where they needed to be in the safest manner, his mind also wandered. He had spent so many years here, and all of the earliest bettering his career once he was an adult. He thought for a moment about the old thrill again of the racetrack when all was still well in the world, but banished the vision as quickly as it had appeared. He was getting better at that and soon enough once he was living somewhere else entirely, he hoped those old dreams would never come again. As he drove onto the main road out of town, he passed the old wooden sign outside of the track that proudly proclaimed it as the "Home of _#51_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

He never looked back.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

MIDDAY on Highway 66, the moving truck, Oliver, started chattering a mile a minute about everything possible under the sun. Because Cornelia was nearer than Hudson was, she was his listening companion. It was a fortunate thing she didn't mind.

"Mrs. Hornet, I just remembered this funny story. Wanna hear it?" he asked her.

She glanced at him briefly with her side mirror and upon meeting his goofy smile she laughed and said, "Sure! Tell me all about it."

Oliver chuckled. "Well, it goes like this. I was helping this lady one time. She had a _lot_ of stuff. I've never seen so much. I had to make three trips. We get to the house and she makes sure she gets everything, like I didn't have any plans to make off with her goodies. All of a sudden she just looks terrified. I didn't know what was wrong and she wasn't making sense. Come to find out she had been so worried about getting all of her stuff safely in her new place that she forgot her kid at home. She went home and he was sitting in the backyard playing with his construction set. I've never known anyone yet who's forgotten their kid behind!"

"How awful! It sounds like she was more worried about her things than anything else!" Cornelia gasped.

"Tell me about it. Whatever you do, don't ever do that!" he exclaimed.

She laughed softly and said, "I sure won't, Oliver."

They drove almost all day before stopping at the same halfway point they had before at some small roadside motel. Oliver camped out in the parking lot; Cornelia and Hudson rented what coincidentally ended up being the same room that had lodged at before on their vacation. Once they were situated for the night, the Cadillac stopped to look out the window facing some far off mountains. The faintest glow of sunset lingered as just some ruddy smudges. Stars already appeared in the velvet-black above.

"I can't believe we're actually never going back to Thomasville." she said.

"Are you still glad about that?" her companion asked her as he joined the view with her.

She looked over at him and smiled. "I've never been gladder. The idea of starting off new in someplace where all the memories that we'll create are to be good is such a wonderful thought. I'm very happy. Thank you for suggesting a move, Hudson."

"I'm just as happy you agreed to it, Cornelia. I don't plan on ever seeing Thomasville again for the rest of my days." he told her.

"Neither do I. There's nothing there for either of us. There is one thing, though…" she said, and gave a little laugh.

"Oh?"

She met his eyes again and said, "My parents will have a fit. My father thought the town was called Radiation Stinks and he nearly blew a gasket at our staying in the Cozy Cone. I kind of hope they visit one day so _they_ can stay in a cone, too."

"Payback?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh yes. Anyhow, those cones weren't at all bad. I think Dad might even find them pretty nice, though I doubt he'd actually admit it…"

They rose at dawn the next day and were soon on the road again to the place that'd be their new home. By late afternoon they were in the Ornament Valley and around 6 PM, they entered Radiator Springs. Once there, a smile rarely left Cornelia for long. She couldn't believe this wonderful place with all of these wonderful individuals was to be her new home and them her new neighbors. She especially liked Flo and couldn't wait to go over to the V8 Café again to see if she'd remember them from their vacation past.

The regal looking silver Buick set the couple up with a room at the Cozy Cone and let Oliver stay out in the back lot free of charge. Although the sun had dipped below the horizon by the time everything was set up, the Cadillac still wasn't discouraged by the idea of a short little drive downtown to look at the beautiful neon and the stars above. Only too happy to fulfill his wife's wish, Hudson was sure to accompany her.

"I can't believe we're here for good." Cornelia sighed. They had stopped at the courthouse grounds and overlooked the town laid out before them with all of those glittering lights, beautifully shining cars and the essence of music drifting through the air from where it played at the V8 Café.

Hudson nudged her and said, "You'd better start saying you _do_ believe it, honey, because it's all true. This isn't some dream that'll go away. Remember that."

She lightly leaned into his side and replied, "I know. I just never thought I could be so happy to be in such a place. Thomasville felt this way for me before everything happened, but after that… oh, why am I telling you this? You understand not just the same but more."

"That's all in the past now, Cornelia. It's not worth our while to be rethinking it over and over. We have a new start now, in a better place. And you know something?" he asked.

"What's that?"

"You're going to be the fanciest girl in town with that hood ornament. You've always been a looker anyway, but now… you'll really have to beat all those fellas off that're going to be looking at you." he chuckled.

"Like they'd get anywhere with me. My eyes are only meant for looking at one man, and he's the most handsome blue Hudson Hornet someone could shake a wrench at."

"How you flatter me." he told her with a smile.

"Someone has to around here, may as well be lucky me. Come on, let's head on back now. It's been a long two days and as excited as I am, I'm getting pretty tired." she said, straightening up and starting her quiet motor. Her companion did the same although his powerful engine was a little louder than hers.

"That sounds like a decent plan; I'll go with it."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

HUDSON and Cornelia Hornet were in town for just shy of a month when an employment prospect came up. It was the town law officer, a black and white Buick known by everyone as simply Sheriff, who told the blue Hornet. He had thanked the law enforcement for the information and later on relayed it back to his wife.

"Cornelia, the sheriff today told me about something that could be a potential job for me and it also comes with its benefits. He told me the town here has been without a doctor for a few months short of a year. The fella that had the job was getting old and wanted to retire and when he did, he moved out of town. Everyone's been without since and when they need something looked at, they have to go the nearest town, which isn't all that near, especially for someone doing poorly. No one wants to be driving several hours just to get their sparkplugs changed."

"Well, that's certainly true. You're saying though that you might be interested in taking the job?" she asked.

"If I could learn the trade well, then yes. It's the type of job that'd be good for us; it's steady work and having it could mean a family would be provided for in a good way. I wouldn't want anything less for you." he replied.

A smile found its way onto her front bumper and her eyes took on a dreamy look. "Doctor Hudson… now I like the sound of that. But, I think it'd sound even better if it was a little less…mmm…" she wondered.

"Formal…?" he offered, unsure of where she was headed.

"That's the word! Yes, it's too formal. You take a job like that in this little unassuming town, and I've just the thing you ought to be called." she said, her spring-green eyes meeting his azure.

"Well, don't keep it from me, dear. I told you I'm no good at guessing games." he answered kindly.

She winked at him, replying, "I wouldn't dream of making you guess, Doc Hudson.


	17. Chapter 17

17~

Cornelia became shocked as time went on to see that her husband actually seemed to find a genuine interest in learning the ropes to become the new doctor for Radiator Springs. For the first time since his devastating crash, she could see the prospect of an entirely different line of work lifted his spirits, and this made her very glad. Things were truly looking up in their new hometown.

They would work together as a team when it came to this new job, and at his request Cornelia would read aloud questions from a book to her companion and kept track of how many he got right or wrong.

"Okay, Hudson, Question 25: Someone comes in suffering from heat-exhaustion. What do you do?" she asked.

"The single most important thing is making sure the patient is brought to the coolest place available, quickly. Doing a check to ensure the radiator is in good working order to keep the motor at a safe temperature is another must, as forgetting this and discovering later that the radiator was bad can lead to not only severe overheating, but even a fire." he answered in an even tone.

She looked up and flashed him a smile. "You really know your stuff, Hudson. Why, in practically no time at all you'll be able to call yourself a true doctor. You know what then?"

"Tell me," he prompted, leaning back on his rear shocks.

"Your first job can be changing my sparkplugs. Depending on how you do, I'll recommend your services. Depending on how much you charge me, you may never have me come back again either, 'Doc Hudson.'" she answered with a flip smile.

"As if I'd ever charge my favorite girl a single cent," he told her with his own smile in return.

"Well, I don't know that for sure. There's no telling how you'll behave once you can hang up a fancy certificate and call yourself a genuine 'Doctor of Internal Combustion.' Pretty impressive, you know."

He chuckled. "If I wore the word 'Fabulous' on my sides for several years of my life and kept a level head, then I'm going to say nothing else will affect me."

She offered him a softer smile and replied, "Your humbleness is truly one of your most charming qualities, Hudson. I hope not too many female patients make eyes at you. I mean… a lot of doctors are old and dull guys so it'll be quite the thing for such a young and undeniably handsome one to be in office."

"Oh, I won't be young forever. One day I'll be 'old and dull' also, just like some old Model A you could see now. Then, even _you_ will be seeking out someone else to change your sparkplugs." he said with his classical good humor.

"Hudson, I hate to break it to you, but I'm going to be old by then also, you know. Unless I find the fountain of youth… which I might. You never know. Secondly, you'll never be dull. Old? Well, that can't be escaped, but the only thing about you that might be dull by then is your paint." she said with a laugh.

"You won't see that happening if I can help it. Why would I want to not just _be_ an old codger but _look_ the part as well? Especially when I have you for my Sunday drive companion. My paint is staying shiny as long as I'm of mind to keep it that way."

She giggled and said, "Okay, I understand, Hudson. Back to the questions now. What would you do if a patient came in suffering from just a blown tire?"

He was taken aback at that. "What would _I_ do? Well, unless it damaged them any, I'd just have them brought directly to Luigi's to get a new one."

"I know, I was just fooling with you, Hudson. Can't be technical every second, you know." she said with a grin.

"You tricky gal," he retorted.

"The trickiest."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

WITHIN a year's time, Hudson received his degree; the town's medical clinic was reopened and above the double doors in silver-colored letters read "Doctor Hudson – Dr. of Internal Combustion". To the left of that above the plate-glass windows was written in the same letters "Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic".

There was a grand opening ceremony and the entire town attended plus a few travelers interested to see what all the clamor was about. Everyone who saw him wished Hudson well and promised him the moment they had the slightest knock in their engines, they'd be sure to see him. Cornelia stood beside her husband during the entire event and received more than a dozen well-wishes and congratulations on the now well-known fact she was not only expecting their child, but he or she would be around for all to see soon enough also. Although she was feeling so worn out not even a new set of sparkplugs would give her much spunk, she was grateful for everyone's kindnesses and only when she didn't feel like she could handle it much longer did she eventually leave her companion's side and retreat for a shady place to park and rest. Hudson was quick to notice this and broke off the conversation a black Plymouth was trying to have with him with a polite-but-quick 'excuse me.'

The next thing Cornelia saw when she looked up was the polished indigo car known simply as her dearest companion slowly coming towards her. He slowed to a smooth stop before her and asked with the sort of concern she knew would make him good at his new profession, "How are you feeling, honey?"

She didn't hide the answer as she fell a little lower on her shocks but said anyway, "I feel like how I imagine any girl would feel when she's a month away from having a baby, Hudson. I feel like how I think you may have after 500 laps on the track—except you were carrying only your own weight. Imagine your weight plus some extra."

He pulled up around her before coming against her at even lengths and gave her a gentle and loving nuzzle. "Come on, let's head on back." he said to her.

"But what about all those folks?" she asked, motioning to the crowd still gathered for the grand opening. Hudson looked over briefly then turned his attention back fully to his wife.

"The party's over as far as I'm concerned; it went long enough. You're my main interest right now, Cornelia." he said.

"But, your job is to be here for the townsfolk and they—"

"My job is to see to your wellbeing first. You're my only companion; that's how it works." he gently interrupted.

"Well, if you don't mind, I _would_ like to just go back and wind down in the quiet." she allowed, slowly rising up on her shocks to her average height.

"I don't mind in the least. Just keep close to me and I'll make sure no one else bothers you."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

They made it past the lessening crowd and to their quarters adjacent the clinic. Once the doors shut behind them, Cornelia fell into her husband with such unexpectedness that he hastily applied the brakes to avoid an accidental collision with the wall behind him. She soundly kissed him and said when she drew back from his gleaming chrome grille a few inches, "You really earn the expression of 'gentleman,' Hudson Hornet. I'm afraid our child may toss you down to second place, but you will always remain _one_ of the best parts of my life."

He leaned forward to return the kiss and when he withdrew replied, "I can only say the same for you, Cornelia. That's why all the parties in the world won't keep me away from you."

"If every lady had someone like you for her husband, there'd never be an unhappy marriage. You treat me like a queen." she murmured.

"Well, you may not wear the diamond crown, but I still think of you as a queen, darling." he said, flashing that charismatic smile.

"I have a gold hood ornament. That's all I could ever ask for, Hudson. Better than some sparkly rocks any ol' day."


	18. Chapter 18

18~

Cornelia Hornet had a fine sense of humor that she managed to keep up unto the very last day before she became a mother. After that, she was just too tired to be sassy, but before that she certainly managed to be. She had been resting near constant in the last few weeks and on a day when she simply felt… different… she drove right through the double doors into the shining bright polished office of her husband's practice.

"Why Cornelia, I wasn't expecting you." he said when he looked away from the x-ray scan of an engine up on the wall.

The jade-green Cadillac, feeling a touch feisty despite all else replied, "Well, something came up, Doctor."

He sensed she wanted him to play along with this so he answered, "Oh? What's the matter, Mrs. Hornet?"

"Well, let me give you some history here on my 'illness.' I happened to fall in love back in 1951 to striking racecar."

"Racecars are nothing but trouble." he stated firmly.

"How true I found that to be! I fell trunk over hood in love with this guy and he asked me to marry him. So madly in love I was, I accepted. In '56 I found out just how robust this racecar was, and let me tell you, Doc: I paid for it, big-time."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked with such professionalism, Cornelia wanted to laugh. Instead she answered just as formally, "He got me pregnant with what's likely a little racecar who'll want to race laps all around town the very moment the bugger will get the coordination up to do so. I feel awful, Doctor, and I don't want to go through this ever again, so I've been planning."

"Oh?" he asked.

"Oh yes indeed." she replied. "After this child is born, I'm having a little talk with this racecar husband of mine. I'm thinking of making sure he gets 'fixed' so I don't have to struggle through having any more baby racers."

Hudson's act was dropped instantly and he let his striking azure eyes linger on the green irises of the pretty Cadillac. "You still joking me or do you actually mean that?" he asked.

She pulled forward to give his scratched up fender an affectionate nuzzle and asked, "What do _you_ think, Hudson?"

"You're joking, I'm going to hope?" he allowed.

"Bingo. Why, you never know what the future will bring. It's possible I'll find motherhood so agreeable I'll want a dozen other children, and if that's the case, well, I'll need someone with a charming smile, remarkably blue eyes and the heart of a timeless champion for the daddy." she told him.

"A _dozen_ children?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his expression. "You never know what I might find agreeable. The first step towards having those dozen though is having the first one. The time for that is pretty soon too, and if how I've felt today is anything to go by, you and I will be true parents before this week is up. Seeing as today is Friday, I'd say that's before long." She sighed before continuing in a softer tone, "There's no use hiding the facts, though… I'm excited by the idea of being a mother but afraid also. What if I'm no good at taking care of a child depending on me?"

The indigo-blue Hudson Hornet looked her over with a gentle gaze and answered, "I see something in you that you don't yet see in yourself, Cornelia."

"What?" she asked, feeling perplexed.

"You have a lot of courage and a lot of strength. With those special qualities, you'll be fine. Just fine. I'm more worried about how good of a parent _I'll_ be."

"We'll learn together, Hudson. That's all we can do" she said.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

WHEN morning broke over Radiator Springs the next day, it could have been called as commonplace as any other Saturday before and likely any other one in the future.

Except it wasn't.

The town now had a new resident it could proudly claim on its permanent census; a small and pretty young Cadillac of a soft sea foam-green color with her father's lovely blue eyes, if only in a bit lighter shade. Although the jade-green Cadillac who was the child's mother hadn't settled on a name she liked prior, all she had to do was lay an eye on her daughter and the perfect name came right to her. This little girl would be called Grace Hornet; Gracie for short.

The dark blue retired racecar found his every doubt of being even a passable parent fall away the minute his gaze fell upon this child, his _daughter_. He was in silent awe of her. She was absolutely perfect in every way. Her paintwork was even and unmarred by a single scratch. Her chrome had the new sparkle even his and Cornelia's didn't have any more. Although he didn't lapse into a narcissistic thought often at all, he found himself thinking at that moment that little Gracie had to be the loveliest child he'd ever seen. What he also realized though from what his job taught him was that practically every new father believed the very same thing about their own kid.

Whether they all thought it or not though, Hudson really did believe his little girl was truly something special.

The news of the latest little resident circulated quickly through the town and it wasn't farfetched to say the entire community wanted to see her. Cornelia didn't mind that, but she was still so worn from the ordeal that all she wanted was just a day or two of rest and recouping before the eager folks of the town descended upon her with all of their words and praises. In this time of waiting, the townsfolk would gather 'round at the V8 Café and toss ideas about of what this child could possibly look like. A few days later they were sitting around doing just that.

"Why, we haven't had a kid 'round here permanent aside from the travelers'! This sho' will be a lot of fun!" the finned beauty named Flo said as she brought an order to the Italian Fiat who ran the tire shop.

"I'm wondering what the kid will look like." Sheriff joined in from where he sat.

"She's probably going to be real pretty, man. That Cornelia's a nice shade of green and Doc, he ain't half bad himself. Though I think he'd look a little nicer with some pin striping, man." Flo's husband, Ramone, interjected.

"You know he wouldn't go for that. I think he looks fine the way he is." she told him.

"What 'chu mean, baby? I thought you liked the ghost flames and pin stripes and all that!" he exclaimed.

"I do," she said smoothly. "But only on you, honey."

The hillbilly tow truck, Mater, pulled in at that moment and said as if he had been a part of the conversation for the past half hour, "Well, I've been thinking this little girl might be the colors of _both_ of her parents. Wouldn't dat be somefin'?"

" _Hijole_ , man. Two-tone could look really nice! I like that idea." Ramone agreed.

"Well, _shoot_. Jest a thought until we know fer sure!" the tow truck chuckled.

At that moment Flo look up to see a sleek blue Hudson Hornet slowly drive into the Café lot. All eyes landed on him instantly.

"Well, there's the proud new daddy himself!" Flo announced, fixing the indigo car with her typical big smile. "We've just been talking about you and the little one, wonderin' what she looks like. How's your other girl doin'?"

"Cornelia is doing well, thank you for asking. She actually is the one who sent me over here." he began.

"Well, tell us the reason! We've been wondering for days now!" Lizzie chirped from the far end of the station.

Hudson offered his charismatic smile to the gathered crowd and replied, "What's the use of me telling you something that's a lot better explained if you see it?"

"Are you-a saying we can see-a the child?" Luigi asked.

"I'm pretty sure that's what I'm saying," Hudson answered with the same kindness.

"Well, I'd be darned! Can you hold on a few minutes, honey?" Flo said, turning to a Plymouth that had just pulled into the station. "I've got myself a baby to see, and I sho' don't plan on missing out!"

Back at the residence adjoining the Mechanical Clinic, eyes went wide and an assortment of gasps and "awws" passed around the small crowd the moment they laid eyes on little Gracie Hornet from where she sat against her mother and by her father where he had pulled up against her, looking undeniably proud.

Flo was simply animated and exclaimed when she looked over the little girl, "That child has fins on her! Now I'm not going to be the only gal in town with 'em!"

Cornelia laughed softly and replied, "No one will ever have fins like yours though, Flo."

The mint-green car shared the laugh before saying, "She's just a living doll. I can't say I've seen a cuter child 'round here. Even all those travelers' kids don't hold a candle to this little one. She's far more of a darlin' than I ever imagined. She takes right after you, honey. In fact, I don't see a speck of her daddy's looks in her!"

"That's what I've been telling him." Cornelia said, giving her husband a sly little smile.

"Sometimes, a kid doesn't take after a parent in looks. Sometimes, it can be something in their spirit. Maybe she's got something from him we just don't see yet." the Model T, Lizzie, said as she came alongside Flo.

"You never know. She just might surprise us." the older Cadillac said partially to the gathering and partly to her dearest companion.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cornelia couldn't help but playfully rib her husband especially once the townsfolk confirmed what she'd already been thinking.

"You know, they really _are_ right. Gracie _doesn't_ look like you." she said later that same evening.

"Well, I don't mind. Your pretty styling suits a girl just fine, Cornelia." Hudson replied with a smile.

"Thank you for saying so, dear, but it _is_ odd she doesn't look like you in the smallest sense. Just like Flo said, not a speck of her has the essence of a Hudson Hornet. You sure you're the father?" she teased.

"Let me think. I'm pretty sure that was me, Cornelia. Could have been another Hornet posing as me, but I don't think so. I think I remember too well how seducing you were for that _not_ to be yours truly."

"Hudson! Watch your mouth; there's a child here now!" the Cadillac admonished, feeling flattered and flustered all at once.

"I don't think she understood the meaning of what I said, honey." he replied.

"She will one day, so start working on being that gentleman I know you are now, Mister Hudson Hornet." she fired at him.

"I didn't think what I said was that bad. After all, it's true. If you hadn't been so seducing that particular day, little Miss Gracie wouldn't be here now, you know." he answered, smiling.

"Oh, _you!_ You, you, you!" she railed, at a loss for words.

He leaned over to give her a long, clearly loving nuzzle and said, "Don't blow a gasket, darling. I'll be the best gentleman I can for my two favorite girls."

She leaned slightly into him and answered in a softer tone, "Now that's the fellow I fell in love with."


	19. Chapter 19

19~

 **MID 1957**

Little Grace grew like a water-doused weed in those first few months of life, was quick to learn to talk, and although it took her a little while to get her coordination up completely, she still enjoyed following her mother about. She would have liked to follow her father about also, but given his job and all it entailed with other vehicles coming to and fro, he didn't bend on his rule of her not being there. She could get hurt much too easy. Staying away from him nearly all day made her greet him with unrestrained joy when he did return on any evening, such as this.

Hudson had closed up for the day and had just pulled through the double doors of the family's residence when little Gracie jumped up from her mother's side with an excited squeal and pounced onto her father. He rolled backward a few inches and stated, "You're getting to be one strong girl Gracie! Why, not every tyke your age could move my weight so easy!"

She giggled and gave him another nudge, which was honestly as light as a feather to a full-grown car, but because he was of such the nature to enjoy her fun, he purposefully geared his engine into reverse and slowly went back under his own power. The little girl never tired of this and even enjoyed the challenge when he suddenly applied the brakes. She pushed against the bigger and heavier car with all of her might till she collapsed in a small heap with her tires splayed out around her.

"Ooof!" she said in surprise and blinked.

Cornelia laughed softly and said as she came over, "Don't worry, Gracie. One day you'll be just like me and he'll never be able to fight against you then!"

The little Cadillac bounced up with that shocking energy all kids seemed to have and snuggled up against her mother. Her big blue eyes took in everything with obvious interest. Cornelia smiled down at her daughter, then turned back to her husband and said, "And how did your day go, Hudson?"

"Same old, same old. I'd rather hear about your day, to be honest." he answered.

As Cornelia started to do so, Gracie slipped out from beside her and slowly and sneakily came back around the shining blue car who was her father. The light happened to hit his paint in just the right way and when she turned around, she found she could see her entire reflection on his sleek body in stunning detail. She was enraptured! Not yet realizing that this was her mirror image, she simply thought it was a playmate. Before anyone could see to stop her, she rolled back a few feet and then flew forward, only to have herself collided into that indigo paint with nary a playmate to be found! Hudson stiffened in surprise from the light though unexpected impact but then slowly and carefully turned backwards till he met little Gracie's big eyes. Cornelia rushed over following suit.

"Honey, are you alright?" she asked, anxious.

"Do you feel okay?" Hudson asked immediately after.

Gracie straightened up from falling, shook herself off in a very humorous way and answered with her typical smile, "I'm fine."

"Well, thank goodness you are! Let me get a good look at you." Cornelia said, and nudged her daughter gently to face her. Gracie just looked up with that same smile. Hudson inspected her every inch critically before giving a sigh of relief. "You didn't dent or scrape yourself any. That's a good thing." he said.

"Little kids are a lot more resilient than we are!" Cornelia said before turning back to her daughter. "Be careful around cars bigger than you, honey. You could get yourself hurt even though it'd be an accident. Just because your daddy could fix you up doesn't mean you should be a wild and crazy girl, alright?"

The little sea foam-green Cadillac giggled in that sweet way she had and replied, "Okay, I be good."

Once a young car figured out how to drive, they weren't keen on wanting to stop and as 1957 rolled onward, the young Cadillac followed her mother around town very well and minded Cornelia's rules of staying by her at all times. Gracie's favorite place in the whole town (aside from being wherever her father was) was the V8 Café. She absolutely loved Flo and the mint-green car loved her just as much. Seeing as to how both cars had fins—even though one pair was very small and the other sailed towards the clouds—several of the customers mistook Gracie for Flo's daughter. Flo was delighted but always gave her pat response of, "Well, I sho' may call her 'baby girl,' but she isn't my baby girl. I'd keep her if I could, though I'm certain her mama and daddy wouldn't be too happy about that!" With this she'd motion to Cornelia and also Hudson if he was accompanying his wife. Several folks were shocked that the little girl with fins belonged to the curved and smooth-lined cars who hailed from an earlier part of the decade. Times _were_ changing, though.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

GRACIE loved all the townsfolk, but her favorite individual certainly was Flo. The mint-green Motorama beauty delighted in the little Cadillac's company and would always be glad to slip her something for free at her V8 Café. Gracie shadowed Flo so much that Cornelia wouldn't be too worried about letting her daughter run about on a longer leash, so to say, when they'd visit the station. This special forged-friendship inspired Flo when a particular occasion was nigh.

"Honey, there's somethin' I've been wanting to ask you." the sparkling show car said to the jade-green Cadillac one day.

"Ask me anything, Flo." Cornelia responded, smiling.

"Weren't you and your husband going to have a wedding anniversary soon?" she asked.

"Yes, in fact. We're celebrating 4 years come next Friday." the Cadillac answered.

"Well, congratulations to you both! I've never seen a finer couple. I have an idea I'd like to toss out to you. I love your little girl to pieces and would be absolutely thrilled and glad to let her spend the weekend with Ramone and me so as for you both to have a nice and quiet anniversary. I understand of course if you aren't interested though, honey."

Cornelia smiled as she watched her daughter silently play around the big-finned car. She met Flo's bright green eyes and said, "Why, that is such a sweet offer! Gracie would _love_ to spend so much time with you, I know. If Hudson wouldn't mind—I don't think he will—I'd be happy to let you 'adopt' her for the weekend."

The beautiful Motorama car's expression lit up. "That's sure make my weekend fine, too, though there'll prob'ly be even more folk who'll think she my daughter. How I wish she were!"

"You don't have any children, Flo?" Cornelia asked.

The other car shook her hood for no. "I guess it's not in the works for Ramone and I, and I guess it's also just as well. Running the Café here is a busy job and I imagine I couldn't properly care for a youngster."

Cornelia gave the mint-green car a sympathetic smile and offered, "Well, at least take some comfort in the fact Grace loves you just as much as you love her, Flo."

As if responding to her name, the young Cadillac raced over and fell into a heap against Flo's side. Flo looked over with a loving gaze and said, "This here's the finest little gal this side of the Mississippi."

And it was clear she meant it, too.

Later that evening Cornelia pitched the idea to her husband.

"Hudson," she began. "When Gracie and I went on a little drive today, we stopped over at the Café. Gracie just loves visiting with Flo."

"I can certainly understand why. She's a very lively lady." he replied.

"She is indeed! Anyway, she had an idea that she gave me and I want to ask you just to know whether or not you approve. She remembered our anniversary was this month, next week, and would like to know if she could take care of Gracie for the weekend so as we can have that time to ourselves. I really wouldn't have thought of it otherwise, but Flo does love her a lot and I think it'd make her very happy to 'adopt' her for that time."

Hudson's eyes momentarily drifted over to where their daughter had fallen asleep nearby and then he met his wife's countenance once more. "If Flo doesn't mind it, I wouldn't mind it. Grace does seem to enjoy her company a good deal and I bet she'd be pretty happy also to be away from us for just a couple days. It'd be a little adventure, but not so far away that it'd be scary for her."

"I was thinking that, too. I know Flo would take good care of her—she'd probably honestly spoil her! I've not yet asked Gracie's opinion, but I don't think she'd mind. I think she'd be really excited."

"Oh, she would be. I have no doubt about that." Hudson answered, looking back to the little girl again, smiling.

"Well, that's settled then. I'll let Flo know the next time I see her. She'll be absolutely overjoyed." Cornelia said, smiling in return.

. . . . . . . .

"Grace, honey, I have something I'd like to ask you."

It was the start of a new day in that next week and Cornelia wanted to ask her daughter the question before they went out for a drive.

"Yes, Mama?" the little Cadillac replied.

Cornelia smiled. "Your father and I were wondering if you wouldn't mind spending this weekend with Flo. She'd be very happy to have your company for a few days."

Gracie's soft-blue eyes lit up and she squealed, "I want to!"

Cornelia laughed and gave her daughter an affectionate nuzzle. "Now, how did I just know you were going to say that?"

"Maybe I thought really, really hard and you saw my thought?" the little girl asked.

"Maybe! You're certainly a smart little girl and it's possible." her mother answered.

"When can I go, Mama?" Gracie asked.

"Well, we'll have to ask Flo to find out when she has a good time, honey."

"Can we go see her now? Pleeeease?" the little girl begged.

"You bet we can!"

To the V8 Café they went and right after the sparkling Motorama car dropped off an order to a grumpy looking Ford truck, her bright-green eyes alit on the small-finned car.

"Well, if that isn't my favorite little girl in the whole world!" she said with her great, welcoming voice.

Gracie sprang up from her mother's side and cried in greeting, "Hello, Miss Flo!" Suddenly remembering her manners though, her expression changed and she corrected, "Hello, _Mrs._ Flo!"

The mint-green car laughed and gave the little Cadillac a friendly nudge. "Don't you worry about the 'Mrs.', baby girl. Just call me Flo; no extras added to weigh it down."

"Okay, Miss Flo." Gracie said as she happily sidled up against the other female car.

Flo laughed and then said to Cornelia, "So, what's new with you, honey? Your man still workin' hard?"

"Always. He's no slacker in his job. And speaking on him, we both came to a decision. We'd be fine with letting you keep Grace this weekend, and Grace is _very_ excited to spend the time with you, also."

The words had barely left the Cadillac before Flo broke out in the most delightful smile. "Honey, you just made my day! I've been hoping you'd say 'yes' to my little offer since I asked you."

"I couldn't resist. Hudson and I both know how much you love spending time with her." Cornelia said, returning her own bright smile.

Flo turned towards Gracie and said, "Oh, baby girl, we are going to have one _fine_ time, let me tell you."

"I can stay with you?! _Really?!_ " the little Cadillac asked, her eyes big with excitement.

"Well, according to your mama and daddy, you sho' can!" Flo told her.

"When would be a good time for me to bring her?" Cornelia asked the show car.

"You said your anniversary was Friday? Bring her Thursday evening. That works fine with me."

"But… that's longer than just the weekend then. Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure so long as you are, honey. Any extra time with this little delight is A-OK with me." Flo answered warmly.

Cornelia turned to her daughter and could tell that she wouldn't be upset about any extra days whatsoever. Back to the mint-green car she replied, "That works fine with me, too. I'll bring her around 7 so she'll be early for her bedtime at nine. Though, she probably won't want to sleep anytime soon!"

The two ladies shared a laugh. Flo then leaned in towards the jade-green Cadillac and when their green eyes met each other, she said, "I hope you and Hud have a fabulous anniversary and you know what I say?"

"Tell me all,"

Flo smiled slyly and said in a softer tone that was ignored by the little girl, "Any anniversary is a special time, honey, but when you can have it without the little one, I got a tip for you: Live it up like newlyweds!"


	20. Chapter 20

20~

On Thursday evening, Cornelia and Hudson both went over to the V8 Café to drop Gracie off with Flo. Gracie had been excited all day long and repeatedly kept asking her mother what time it was and said more than once that things were going by "too slow!" The Cadillac couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's show, but was glad all the same that there was someone in her life that she loved so much and wanted to spend time with. Every child should have someone like that in their life to enjoy outside of family, she thought.

It ended up being a fairly slow night—compared to average standards—at the V8 and Gracie took advantage of it by dashing around the gasoline pumps with near-reckless abandon. Once she had gotten her coordination up months prior, she had become quite good at her driving and wouldn't skid around as much as Cornelia would have thought. As the little girl seemed to glide around an unoccupied island, the Cadillac threw her husband a knowing smirk.

"Looks like she got her driving skills from you, Mister Fabulous." she said, using that moniker as a public way to refer to his being a racecar without outright stating it.

Hudson rolled his eyes in that casual way he had.

"Don't sit around and deny it. You have a command of the road most could only _hope_ to have." she countered.

Flo finally finished up with a group of customers and when she came over she offered her gleaming smile and said, "Well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Hornet bringing my little girl in for her long visit! How are you two doing?"

"Doing just fine and looking forward to our weekend." Cornelia said with a grin.

"You lookin' forward to a nice time with this lovely gal of yours?" Flo asked Hudson, her green eyes alighting on his blue.

"I always enjoy my time with her; I'd be a fool not to!" he answered.

"Now that's the kind of thing _all_ husbands should say. I oughta start training my Ramone more. I think he takes me for granted after awhile." she said with a chuckle.

"No I don't, baby! Why you think that?"

They all looked up to see the royal-purple Impala with painted flames slowly drive up into his wife's station. When he pulled up beside his wife, she smiled and said, "I'm just joking you and you know it, honey. Anyhow, Cornelia and Hudson brought along their precious little girl tonight so she can stay with us till next week."

At that moment Gracie tore around the nearest pump again with a squeal and then slid to a halt before the Impala.

"Hey there, _mija._ " he greeted, smiling.

"Hello, Mr. Ramone!" she cried.

"No 'Mr.' Just Ramone, okay?" he told her.

"Okay!" she said, grinning wide. She then took off again, but not to dash around any other gasoline islands. She slid right between Flo and Ramone and looked quite happy there.

"Well, aren't you just ready to leave us!" Cornelia said, feigning hurt feelings.

"Don't we even get a 'goodbye'?" Hudson asked, playing the same act.

Gracie's eyes went wide and she instantly shot out from the two other cars to her parents. She went to her father first and cried, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He gave her a warm smile. "Don't be sorry, honey. We understand. Just don't forget about us _entirely_!"

"I won't, I won't." she promised heartily before leaning over to give him a kiss. "I love you, Daddy."

He gave her a loving nuzzle and said, "I love you also, Grace."

The little Cadillac then turned her mother and gave her the same affection and same sentiment. Cornelia returned her daughter's kiss and then said, "You have a wonderful time, sweetheart. We'll be back to pick you up first thing next week."

"I sure hope that doesn't come too quick!" Flo said with a hearty laugh. "We'll want to enjoy every second with this little doll, and there's no doubt we sho' will, too!"

. . . . . . . .

AFTER Hudson returned from work that next day, Cornelia greeted him at the door wearing a scent he now remembered well and it prompted a smile to curve his gleaming chrome front bumper. "Is that that absolutely wonderful New Car Fragrance, dear?" he asked.

"You know it is," she smiled, and then lowered the rims of her eyes to offer him a smoldering look. "Now, what is it I am _not_ wearing, Hudson?"

He lowered the rims of his own eyes, which somehow seemed to make him look even more handsome than average. "I won't even look this time. Let me see if I can guess." he told her.

She simply kept looking at him in the same fashion.

"You are not wearing your skirts." he stated more than asked.

She winked at him and purred, "You're quite the mind-reader, big guy."

He pulled up closer to her and said, "You sure know how to get a fella's motor revved up, darling."

She feigned listening and then said with mock distaste, "Well, if that's true I sure don't hear your motor, Hudson. As powerful as it has to be for a racecar, I would have thought I'd have heard it."

He offered her a wink and replied, "Well, as you know, an engine won't have combustion until there's a spark created. _Something_ has to generate that spark."

"Well, I know just the thing that will." she said, and leaned in to bridge the small gap between their shining chrome grilles until they met one another as she kissed him. When they parted a few seconds later, she looked him over lovingly and asked, "Did that create the spark, you sweet and wonderful guy?"

He gave her his handsome smile and answered, "Nearly, but it's nothing against you. A motor with the size and power mine has takes a lot to get started."

She fixed him with an unwavering and sultry look. "Well, why don't I just take you for a ride then, racecar?"

"Why don't I as a proper gentleman," he replied, "take you first?"

They may have had youth on their sides but when the sun sank below the red rock mountains, neither could deny they were a trifle tired, but not in a unpleasant way.

"You really know the ways of winning a woman, Hudson." Cornelia said. She had leaned up against the indigo-blue car who always remained her favorite place to rest on.

"Well, thank you for saying so." he replied with warmth.

"But you also are talented at wearing someone out. I'm hoping you realized something important, also."

"Yes?" he asked.

She met his azure eyes and said, "I love Gracie to bits and she's the little light in my life, but I want you to understand right now that I'm not in the market for another half-bred baby racecar—yet. I hope you managed to control yourself to some degree."

"I control myself to whatever degree I can given what you do to me." he answered amicably.

"It's your fault. You're too handsome of a guy." she countered.

"You're too delightful of a woman." he answered.

She feigned the resignation in her sigh and said, "Well, it looks like we're even."

"I don't mind pulling a tie on that kind of race." he replied. She leaned further against him and was just setting to close her eyes for a short rest when suddenly she sat up again. "There's something I need to give you!"

"Give me?" he asked, confused.

"Yes! And I want you to understand something else."

"So many terms and conditions… I'm listening, though."

"It's not your business to ask _where_ I got it or _when_ I got it. Don't ask _how_ either. It won't get you anywhere. Your only job is to display it, and it had better work for you. I don't think you're any bigger or smaller back there than anybody else."

When she suddenly realized her faux-pas, she flushed. "I didn't mean it like that."

His charismatic smile was unchanging. "I'm good-natured, Cornelia. It doesn't bother me."

"Well… good! I meant something else entirely. And I bet you're going to love it."

She presented him with a vanity license plate. It was black with off-white characters on it, forming "51HHMD".

"This has several meanings to it." she explained. " '51' is for your year, it is for the first time you ever raced, it is for your racing number and it is for the year I first fell in love with you.

" 'HH' is easy. That's for your name and for what you are, a Hudson Hornet.

" 'MD' of course is representing your profession. So there you have it, '51HHMD'." she said with a shy smile.

He leaned over to give her a kiss and upon withdrawing said, "I couldn't ask for anything kinder. You didn't have to get me anything, honey."

Her smile broadened. "Well, I figured two things. 1, I've been wanting to repay you for this beautiful hood ornament ever since the moment you gave it to me and 2, you ought to wear something different and special also. Your license plate now is just so dull… all those numbers that have no meaning to them. To be honest with you, I truly wanted it to say 51HHRC, for '51 Hudson Hornet Racecar, but I knew you'd rather not and I respect your wish. Something more subtle is better. I figured too many would ask what the 'RC' would mean and you'd come up with some crazy answer."

"Crazy answer? I doubt I could think of one quick enough. And, thank you for not choosing those letters instead. I'm much happier with the way it is. You didn't have to 'repay' me for that ornament though. You have it because I love you dearly and you're the best companion I could have in life." he said with kindliness.

She came over to him and with eyes slipped shut, she tenderly nestled up against his glossy indigo fender. "Well, don't think of it as repayment then, Hudson. Think of it as a token of affection towards you, who I love more than you'll ever know. You're the best companion I could ever hope to have also." She opened her eyes again and upon meeting his she added, "Can I at least offer you my gratitude for something?"

"Go ahead," he offered with a soft smile.

"Thank you for treating me different than any of the other fans you had at your races. Thank you for letting my dream come true of meeting you, and last but not least, thank you for marrying me."

He nuzzled her gently and replied, "You're very welcome to all of that. Those decisions were the easiest I've ever made in my life. I would have asked you to marry me before you left the 1952 race if I didn't think you would have been scared off from such irrational behavior. I was far more taken by you than I ever let on."

"I bet Jimmy had an idea. He was quite the busy body." Cornelia said with a soft laugh, remembering the little forklift.

Hudson thought back to this member of his crew. It felt like an entire lifetime ago. "Oh, he had an idea. He asked me numerous times if you were going to be my first girlfriend. What I _didn't_ tell him was that I planned on you being the _only_ one I'd ever have."

"I can't believe you never had a girlfriend until I came along. I'm certainly not the only girl that had eyes for you." she said.

"No, but like I've told you, you're different than they were. You were real, considerate and lovely without putting on a front from the very moment you said hello. Anyhow, I don't like fast women."

She laughed and said, giving him a nudge, "A racecar who doesn't like fast women? Are you afraid of that idea?"

He flashed her his best smile and answered, "I reckon I might not be able to keep up with 'em."


	21. Chapter 21

21~

Cornelia and Hudson Hornet could not disagree on the fact their wedding anniversary was absolutely wonderful. They reminisced so long during the night that they didn't invest in sleep until almost 2 AM. Once morning came, Cornelia escorted her companion to Luigi's Casa Della Tires where the non-English speaking Guido had already been slated to switch out Hudson's old license plate for the new one. After the deed had been done and Luigi translated Cornelia's thanks to the jolly little forklift the Fiat turned to the jade-green Cadillac and asked, "Do you-a want this other plate? For a souvenir?"

She laughed and said, "Ask Hudson! It's his."

Hudson shook his hood for no. "No, it doesn't matter to me. If she wants it, she can keep it. Do you want it, Cornelia?"

She thought for only a brief minute until coming to her conclusion. "Of course I want it! Maybe I'll figure out a special meaning to 48467 one day."

Back at home, the old plate was tacked up on the wall for a quirky decoration. Cornelia then turned to her husband and gave him a light nudge. "Turn around. I want to see how your new plate looks at all angles."

He complied and slightly turned left and right in the close quarters. Cornelia spent her sweet time examining how it looked until finally coming back around to face him again.

"Like what you see?" he asked her. She smiled.

"Do you mean just the license plate or everything else in general? You have a fine chrome plate-frame and an even finer bumper."

"I'm glad you find those appealing, though I meant only the plate." he answered, returning the smile.

"It's all an attractive combination together." she answered.

"Well, thank you for saying so, and thank you for your kindness. Never thought I'd be wearing a vanity plate. I'm liking the idea."

"You can like it all you want, but just don't get 'vain' over it." she teased.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cornelia."

She came over to lightly lean against his side and murmured, "I hope we have many, many more years together so we can have many, many more anniversaries, Hudson."

"I don't see why that isn't possible. I married you for life, you know, unless you get tired of me after thirty or 40 years!" he answered.

"No chance of that. What would you do if we _weren't_ together one day?" she asked, meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he inquired.

"I mean if something ever happened to me." she clarified.

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Cornelia."

"I'm saying _if_ , Hudson. It's just a hypothesis."

"Well, if we really must think about it, I'll tell you right now that I'd never remarry." he said to her.

"Never?"

"Never. If I hadn't met you at the races, I have no idea if I'd even be married now. Finding that right individual to be the nearest and dearest companion in life isn't some simple task. If I pledge to love and honor till the end of my days, I mean every word." he replied.

She softly smiled. "You have a lot of wisdom, Hudson. A whole lot more than that old Packard who wanted to marry me."

"Oh, that wasn't wisdom, honey. That was just plain old truth."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

BACK at the V8 Café, Grace Hornet eagerly tagged after Flo and was even permitted to assist customers in some cases. Practically everyone who stopped in loved the little girl's pluck and sweet character.

"Hi! Welcome to Flo's V8 Café!" the little Cadillac chirped to a red and white Nash who had just pulled in.

"It's the finest fuel on Route 66!" the mint-green proprietor chimed in as she joined the girl.

The Nash took a moment to observe the small-finned youngster and then the big-finned beauty. "That your little girl, ma'am?" he asked.

"Sadly, I can't claim her, but she _is_ my little helper!" Flo replied.

"She looks like a good one." he said, smiling at the girl who gleefully returned the gesture.

"The best, honey, the _best_! Now, what can we get for you?" Flo asked.

"Just a quart of oil, please." he requested.

"Comin' right up. I'll let the baby here give it to ya, how's that sound?"

The Nash chuckled and said, "Sounds just great to me."

Within a few minutes the small Cadillac tore back to the red and white Nash and deposited the can to him. "There ya go, Mister!" she chattered.

"Well, thanks a bunch, little Miss! Really 'ppreciate it." he said, giving her a friendly little wink. Little Gracie couldn't help but giggle.

"Need anythin' else?" she asked, copying what Flo would say to her guests.

"Nope, don't think so right now, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do." he promised her.

When the station finally closed for the evening, Flo and Gracie were both tired out from the day, but the little girl kept trying to fight off the yawns that snuck up on her.

"Looks like someone's ready for bed!" Flo said to her with a laugh.

"No, no. I wanna stay up a little longer." Grace countered.

"I don't mind you staying up for a few more minutes till I get things in order, but after that, you've gotta go to bed. It's already past your bedtime and I don't want to make your mama and daddy mad on the first whole night you stay with Ramone and me!"

"They won't be mad. They won't know." Grace said, trying to reason.

"What if your daddy or mama come by and see you up and about?" Flo asked. Gracie turned and looked over at the off-white office of her father's business, shuttered for the night, and the only sign of it being there shown by the light softly glowing over the letters which read 'Doctor Hudson – Doctor of Internal Combustion'. She turned back again to the green gaze of Flo.

"I don't think they're awake." she concluded.

Flo chuckled and said, "Oh I imagine they're awake, honey-child. It's a little early for us grown-ups to be going to bed, 'specially on a weekend."

"What would they be doing though? It's all dark lookin' over there." Gracie remarked.

"Oh well, who knows? What do they usually do when you're with them?" Flo asked.

"Sometimes they listen to the radio. Sometimes they read."

"Well, they're probably doing the same things now, baby." she said and with a little laugh added to herself, "And maybe just a little more."

"A little more? Like maybe they're listenin' to the record player, too?" the girl innocently asked.

Flo smiled softly. "Maybe so, honey. Come along now, it's getting too late for you! Gotta get you to bed."

"Aw, but I don't wanna go yet…" she girl contradicted before being wracked by a huge yawn.

"See? You're sleepy after all!" Flo exclaimed, and Gracie Hornet didn't argue once as the Motorama beauty led her off for the night.

. . . . . . . .

Cornelia fixed Hudson with a sultry but mischievous look. The bigger indigo car had succeeded in pinning the Cadillac up against the far wall in the same fashion he had done on their honeymoon years before. The light he wore in his handsome blue eyes was far from dull as well. He winked at her and asked, "You think you could push my weight back as good as our little girl can?"

Cornelia returned the wink and asked, "What makes you think I want to push you away, big guy?"

"Just a guess?" he asked. A not unappealing smirk curved his front bumper which gleamed in the light that fell from the moon outside the near window.

"A very, very wrong guess, Hudson." she purred. "In fact… you might not be close enough."

"You think?"

"I know. This space between us should be closed." she offered.

He leaned in to bridge that few-inch gap by giving her an unmistakably passionate kiss that lasted a small number of wonderful and breathless seconds. Although their grilles were different, they seemed to nestle perfectly against each other in moments like this. It felt as if a Hudson Hornet and a Cadillac Eldorado were truly meant for each other.

And in this case, they were.

When they'd parted from the kiss, Cornelia looked over her mate with the truest of love.

"Heaven isn't some place far off that is a mystery to reach, Hudson. Heaven is a place right here on earth and it is had with you."


	22. Chapter 22

22~

As morning fell over Radiator Springs the next day, Flo threw out an idea to her young guest. Gracie was slightly hesitant of the idea at first, but once the mint-green car explained how much fun it could be, the little Cadillac was all up and excited.

"So, how do you like the idea of spending the day with me, _mija_?" Ramone asked Gracie once his wife left for the day to run the Café.

"I'm excited!" she cried.

"Ooo, man. I'll have all sorts of stories to tell you. You're gonna just love hearing them." the Impala chuckled.

"I wanna hear your favorite story!"

"Baby girl, I don't know if I have a favorite. Everything I do I enjoy, so it's hard to pick what I liked the most, y'know?" he said.

"I guess… what's one of the most interesting then?" she tried instead.

"Hmm, lemme think. Oh! I got one. I got a good one. You ever see a racecar, _mija_?" he asked.

"A what?"

"Racecar! They go really, really fast. _Vroom, vroom_. Like around a track, baby. They race to win trophies and things."

"Really?!" she asked.

"Really! They're really amazing and really fast. It's one dangerous sport, man, but they're brave. Anyhow, I had a racecar come in here once."

"A _real_ racecar?!" she asked, intrigued.

"Yep! As real as you and I are here talkin'. He was the same kind of car as your daddy, I think. I can't remember… I do so many jobs, y'know. But he was a real racecar. Had the numbers on him and everything."

"Wow!"

"Was really impressive, but he wanted his numbers and all that painted over. I guess he retired or something. I dunno. You ever been to a race?" he asked. The little Cadillac shook her hood for no.

"Maybe your folks can take you to the ones we have here on the weekend. It's most every Saturday. It's all small-stakes stuff, y'know. No trophies or nothing, but fun to watch. Those cars can be loud when they rev their engines, baby. _Hijole_ , some nearly make me lose my hearing!" he laughed.

"Can I see a race here?" Gracie begged.

"You'll have to ask your folks, _mija_. I can't take you somewhere without their permission. It could be trouble."

"How will they know?"

"Parents just do, y'know. I don't want to see them get upset. I bet they'll take you if you ask 'em. They went to one of the races before you were here."

"Where was I?" she asked, perplexed.

Ramone chuckled and said, "Well, you wasn't born yet, honey."

"Where was I?" she repeated.

The Impala wheezed. "Ask your daddy, _mija_!" he said, fighting back another onslaught of laughter.

"Does my daddy know where I was?"

"Oh yeah, he knew."

"If he knew, why didn't he find me so I could see the race?" she asked.

Ramone was unable to stop the laughter this time. Gracie still looked confused. Finally when he recovered, he gave her a little nudge with his flame-painted fender and said, "So many big questions from such a little girl! You'll have your answers one day. Come on now, lemme show you this project I'm working on."

. . . . . . . . 

Cornelia and Hudson drove outside on that beautiful Sunday morning with a plan in order.

"Ready for your Sunday drive?" he asked her kindly.

"Ready when you are, dear." she answered.

Because no races were held on the day of rest, the couple slowly cruised towards the desert countryside and the land known as Willy's Butte. Cornelia took in every contour of the mountains, every detail of the cactus. "I never get tired of the beauty here." she said.

"Much better than Thomasville, would you say?" he asked.

"I liked it in its own way, but I love it here more for a multitude of reasons." she answered. They stopped at where the dirt track began. A thousand thoughts ran through the Cadillac's mind as she gazed at it, thoughts that were sad and thoughts that were sweet. She could see Hudson felt the same. It was all reflected in his azure eyes. She suddenly felt the need to ask a question that would be likely crazy and could possibly ruin the whole moment, but she knew it had to be voiced.

"Hudson?" she began.

"Yes, Cornelia?" he asked, looking to her.

She looked around, not noticing anyone else and then turned to him again. "Hudson, I know you want to forget about whom you once were, but underneath that hood, you'll always be a racecar. It's a passion that runs through you that can't be taken out."

He said nothing, but it was apparent he had understood her every word and waited for her to finish.

"Hudson… could you please race one more time? For me?" she cautiously asked.

A few minutes ticked by. Cornelia feared the worst. Finally he looked from the track to her again and said, "Yes, Cornelia. For you, I will. Just once."

She took a park on the outer edges of the track and watched as he drove up with something like uncertainty shrouding a measure of confidence to the starting line, just a length of rope crossing the track and held by two old tires on either side. He braked to a smooth halt and surveyed the landscape before him with eyes that saw Thomasville.

"Come on, Hudson. Drive." Cornelia softly urged.

He looked just a little bit longer and then something clicked within his mind. He crouched low on his front end and turned his powerful engine over with one quick crank. Cornelia smiled gently. He revved his engine long and loud with power that sent a shiver down her entire length. It was a beautiful sound she hadn't heard since 1953. Her smile broadened.

In the blink of an eye, he shot forth from the starting line and tore past her in an indigo blur. He commanded the sloping side of the near hill with unmistakable skill. She eased forward from where she was to get a better view from the far side of the track. With a sense of strength that sent the ground near her rumbling with the roar of his engine, he turned onto the stretch near her. At the end of it was a tight curve, but it proved to be no problem to him. He summed it up in a few calculated seconds and then whipped broadside for his famous drift. His striking blue eyes held only pure joy in them as he executed the move faultlessly at the hairpin-tight curve. Cornelia thought what she had thought many times before: he may not have been born a racecar, but the spirit he had meant that he was born to race. It was a small difference that meant everything. Seeing him race once again, if only against his own self, was an experience the Cadillac could only think of as something beautiful.

He came out of the drift with well-trained maneuverability onto the straightaway before pulling to a sideways halt before the starting line once more. He had been so fast; the entire event had taken only a couple short minutes.

Cornelia slowly came over to him.

His indigo paint was dulled by a coating of red-orange dust, dimming the shine from it, but doing nothing to dim the gleam in his eyes. Although he hadn't gone so fast in a small number of years, he still had remained so fit from his past career that the whole thing had scarcely winded him. He looked so happy, so pleased. Cornelia's heart was truly touched.

So, she was struck unprepared for the tears of her own bittersweet remembrances when she blinked, but her words said how she truly felt.

"There's a lot left in you, Hudson. So very much, and you never got the chance to show them."


	23. Chapter 23

23~

On the other side of town, Gracie was absolutely amazed by the wealth of colors and designs Ramone showed to her from his already painted inventory. She had never seen so many patterns and hues blended together in one place. The entire room was just replete with work half-done and work already finished.

"Can you paint me, Mr. Ramone?" she asked.

The Impala chuckled and said, "Wouldn't be a good idea, baby. Your folks wouldn't like that, not to mention the fact you're already plenty cute just the way you are."

"Aww…" she moped.

He gave her a little nudge and said, "When you're a big girl like your mama and if you really, really want a paintjob, I'll give it to you, but none of that right now, 'kay?"

"Alright," she complied, suddenly wishing she were all grown up so she could wear those swell looking flames represented on a hood near her. Boy, wouldn't that be fine?

"You okay, _mija_? You miss your parents?" he asked, worried her sullen disposition was more than just resulting from a no-go paintjob.

She looked up at him. "Oh no, I'm fine! This is really fun. _You're_ lots of fun, Mr. Ramone!" she chirped.

"Aw, _chica_ , you're too nice." he said, smiling. The little Cadillac returned the grin before changing the subject.

"Have you known Miss Flo forever?"

"Forever is a long, long time, baby girl, but I've known her a while." he said.

"Did you paint her, too?" she wondered.

Ramone's eyes went wide. "Paint _her_? No, no. She came in with the rest of the girls and I painted them, but when I saw her… I couldn't. She got mad, thought I was acting like I was too good to paint her, you know? But the truth was, she was too good to paint. Flo is _maravilloso_." he said, smiling at the memory.

"Who were the rest of the girls?" Gracie asked.

"Her traveling companions and friends. Flo belonged to the Motorama. She was a showgirl."

"What's a showgirl?"

Ramone decided to put it simple. "Just a really nice looking girl folks go see."

Gracie thought it over and then said, "She's really, really pretty. I'm glad you didn't paint flames on her."

"Me too, baby, me too. She couldn't have forced me to do that if she wanted to!"

"Can we go over to the Café and say hi?" the little Cadillac asked.

"Sure we can, mija. I can finish my work later."

. . . .

Ramone and Grace found a place to park together under the canopy of the V8 Café to watch the other customers until the ex-Motorama showgirl attended them. Her brilliant green eyes lit up upon seeing the little girl and she exclaimed, "Well, if it isn't my favorite little helper! How's your day been going, honey? Enjoying spending time with my husband, or do you think I'm a lot more fun?" She leaned down and added in a hushed tone, "You know I am."

Gracie giggled and snuggled up to the mint-green car's front fender. "You're my favorite, Miss Flo."

Ramone feigned shock. " _Hijole_! All this time I thought I was her favorite. _Carumba_ , man."

"Oh, just you stop being jealous!" Flo teased as she gave the Cadillac an affectionate nuzzle.

Gracie looked up at the bigger car and said, "Mr. Ramone says you're a showgirl!"

Two fellows nearby gave Flo a doubly appraising nod when the girl's exuberant info reached them. Before the big-finned car could answer, Grace added, "What does a showgirl do?"

Flo gave a little shrug and said, "I guess we just try to look pretty, honey."

"I don't think you had to try very hard." the girl chirped. Flo wasn't able to beat down the heat of a blush so she covered it up with her animated personality instead.

"My lands! Getting flattered by a child! What's this old world comin' to?!" she chuckled.

"Hey, baby, it's truth though. You don't have to try hard at all to be pretty. In fact, I don't think my girl has to try at _all_." Ramone said with a wink to his wife.

The mint-green car rapidly blinked and then spat, "You're getting me all flustered at work! How am I supposed to keep orders straight when my mind is all messed up with your ramblings, Ramone?"

"I don't see anyone ordering right now, baby." he said.

Flo looked down to Gracie and whispered, "Honey child, most men are just nothing but crazy contraptions on wheels, lemme tell ya."

Ramone and Gracie each enjoyed their drinks and were about ready to leave when a familiar horn was sounded and the little Cadillac bounced up to see if her suspicions were right. Coming into the lot was a dark blue Hudson Hornet joined by a slim and pretty green Cadillac.

"Mama! Daddy!" Gracie exclaimed before she tore away from Ramone to join to the new arrivals.

"If that baby girl goes any faster, she's gonna be burnin' rubber, man." the Impala quipped to his wife.

"Daddy, daddy!" the little Cadillac cried as she slid to a near-screeching halt before the big blue car. He gave her a loving nuzzle and said, "How's my favorite little girl?"

Gracie looked up at him with her soft-blue eyes and exclaimed, "I've had so much fun!"

Cornelia pulled up to give her daughter a kiss and said, "Aww, I'm happy to hear that, sweetheart!"

Gracie joyfully returned her mother's kiss and then sat back on her rear shocks to look them both in the eyes as she told all she had done since her mini-vacation.

"Miss Flo lets me help her here with the customers; it's a lotta fun! Did you also know she was a showgirl? Mr. Ramone says she didn't have to try very hard to be pretty for that. Mr. Ramone also showed me all of the fancy paintjobs he's done and I really, really like the flames! Can I get flames, Daddy?" she pleaded to the bigger car.

Hudson offered her his charismatic smile and replied, "You can ask me again when you're older, honey."

"Okay! Mr. Ramone told me about all the cars he's painted and he doesn't really have a favorite job, but one of the most interesting he did was paint a racecar! Racecars sound really, really neat, Daddy! They go around and around a track and win stuff! Mr. Ramone said this car was really amazing with all the words and numbers and everything! He wanted it painted over though, so Mr. Ramone says he must have retired." the girl chattered.

What she didn't notice was the shadow that passed over her father's darker-blue eyes. For his daughter's sake, he banished the resulting shock as quickly as possible and asked amicably, "Did he remember what this car's racing name or number was?"

Grace thought long and hard and finally said, "Nope. He didn't say and I don't think he knows either. Didn't act like it."

Cornelia and Hudson shared an unspoken message in their shared gaze. When he turned attentions back to his daughter he replied, "Well, that's understandable."

"I'm glad you've had such a good time, Gracie. Are you looking forward to coming back home?" Cornelia asked with a smile.

"Now?!" the smaller car asked, looking stunned.

"Do you want to go now?" Hudson asked.

"No, no!" she exclaimed.

"Alright then. We'll stay with our plan and bring you home tomorrow morning." she complied.

"What's tomorrow?" the girl asked.

"Monday," Cornelia answered.

Gracie thought for a few moments and then asked both cars, "Have you missed me?!"

"Of course we have!" they both said in unison. "You're the brightest spot in our life, Grace." Cornelia added.

The little Cadillac simply beamed.

. . . . . . . .

"That racecar that Gracie said Ramone painted… he was you, right?" Cornelia asked her husband later that evening.

"Yes, that was me. Thank Chrysler he didn't remember my name or number. With a name like mine, you know there's only going to be one individual to match it." he answered.

"She sounded like she was excited by the description of racing he gave her." the Cadillac mused.

Hudson offered her a small smile and replied, "Like mother, like daughter. I just hope she can forget about it."

"But, what if she doesn't?"

"Well, that's a possibility, but I'm just going to hope that she will."

"What if she figures out who you are one day, Hudson?" Cornelia pressed.

"I don't think she will. All of the newspapers I've kept from those days are in that cabinet that even we don't open. Those old trophies are there too, if I remember right. There's nothing in there to tempt her to open it."

"But what if she gets curious one day?"

"I'll figure out something." he said, and with a sigh sank down low on his shocks. The chrome trimming on the bottom edge of his body came within a few short inches of grazing the floor. He looked thoughtful and apprehensive, not at all like the pleased and confident individual he had been in the recent race against himself. Cornelia looked at him with her own unchecked concern and slowly pulled at even lengths beside him. She gently leaned into his side and when his eyes finally met hers she said softly, "If daughter is like mother, then Grace will have the same trait I did of loving the thrill of a race. She'll want to learn all she can about them, and if she does there is no way she'll not learn about #51, the most famous racecar in the circuit if not the most talented in the world. One day she will ask who the Fabulous Hudson Hornet is, and you will have to meet that sweet gaze of hers and say that he is you."


	24. Chapter 24

24~

After Grace came back home again Monday she spent the whole morning regaling her mother with more detailed stories of her time spent with "Mr. Ramone" and "Mrs. Flo." Although Cornelia knew to respect her husband's wishes on not encouraging the girl's possible interest in racing, she still wanted to get a feel for what her daughter actually thought and whether Hudson had anything at all to worry about.

"So, it sounds like you were kind of interested when Ramone told you about the racecar?" she led in.

Gracie grinned. "It sounded so neat, Mama! I've never seen a car go really, really fast!"

Cornelia laughed and said, "We can't here in towns! Sheriff would throw us in the impound!"

"Impound?"

"We'd get in big trouble." Cornelia clarified with a little smile.

"Oh! Mr. Ramone said that there are races here and you went to one but I wasn't here. I asked him where I was and he said Daddy knew so I have to ask Daddy because I don't remember being at a race. If Daddy knew where I was why didn't he find me?" the girl chattered, looking up at her mother with big, confused eyes.

Cornelia laughed and when she finally recovered she said, "Well, I'm not sure whether your daddy will tell you or not."

"Why wouldn't he?" she asked, so very innocent.

"I just… don't think he will. You'll have to be…older…to know." her mother tried to explain.

"Why do I need to be older to figure out where I was?"

"Well… the matter isn't really about _where_ you were, but how you got there. That takes a lot of explaining."

"Does he know how I got wherever I was lost?"

"Oh yes. He knows. He knows everything." Cornelia said, fighting back her want to laugh again at her dear, sweet daughter's curiosity.

. . . .

Somehow or another, Gracie figured out a way to sneak to the outside world past her mother and once out, made a direct line to the front of her father's office. She pushed her way through the double doors and once in the bright clinic she cried, "Daddy! I know I'm not supposed to bother you here but I've got a really, really important question!"

The indigo car slowly backed up from something he had been reviewing and met his daughter's eyes. "Does your mother know you're here?" he asked.

"No… maybe." she faltered.

He sighed. "Don't you remember what I've told you? Your mother will get worried and you could get hurt here. I'm only concerned for your safety, Grace."

"I'll be careful," she wheedled.

"Alright then. Why don't you head back first, tell your mother you're here and that you'll be careful and _then_ come back and ask me your question."

Gracie shuffled her front tire indecisively before finally agreeing. Abiding by her father's wishes, she drove back to their residence where she was almost instantly met by her mother.

"Where did you go?!" Cornelia sternly asked.

"I went to see Daddy. I want to visit him." the girl replied, fidgeting.

"You remember the rules of not seeing him at work. You could get hurt." the bigger Cadillac reminded.

"I promise to be careful. I just wanna say hi."

Cornelia sighed. "Alright. You may do that, but just be careful and come right back here if he has any patients come in."

"Yes Mama." Gracie said, nodding her hood.

She returned to the bright and spacious interior of her father's practice as soon as she could. Hudson turned away from the materials he had been reexamining and upon seeing his daughter asked, "Did you tell your mother where you're at?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good girl," he praised. "Now, what was your question, Grace?"

She pulled up a couple feet before him and replied, "Well, Mr. Ramone said that there was a time before I was here. I asked him where I was and he said I wasn't around yet, but you knew where I was. If you knew where I was though, you didn't find me. I asked Mama. She said you knew 'zactly where I was and how I got there but it was hard to tell me. So, if you knew where I was before I was found, I wanna know and-"

"Whoa, put the brakes on, honey." he interrupted.

"Do you know how I got here?" Gracie asked after catching her breath.

Hudson slowly leaned back on his rear shocks and after taking his own deep breath allowed, "Yes…" He had been prepared to answer or dodge any inquiry she'd have on racecars, but he wasn't prepared for this.

"Well?" the young Cadillac urged, her sweet face expectant.

The big blue car looked down upon the sea foam-green one before him. She was exceptionally smart and he knew a sketchy answer wouldn't placate her for long, not when she was so focused on something. He nearly wished she had asked a racing question instead. Finally he sighed and replied, "I'll give you the _Driver's Digest_ condensed version, Grace. I won't use big words either that might be hard to understand."

"Oh, I'll tell you if I don't un'erstand!" she chirped.

"Alright…" he answered. Why was he dreading this so much? He was a doctor, for goodness sake! "You see, Grace, your mother and I are both cars but we're both different in many ways. The clearest difference is what we are in make and model. We look nothing the same. But there are also other differences."

"What kinds?"

"Well, we may both be cars, but let's just say we have some different parts."

"You mean both you don't have mufflers?" she asked, stunned.

"No, no. We have that."

"Do you have a fan?" she pressed.

Hudson couldn't help but smile. "Yes, honey. Your mother, you _and_ I all have mufflers, fans, fan belts and every other part so we can drive."

"Do you have a radiator?"

"Right behind my grille, same as you and your mother. What I'm talking about is still different than all of that. It has nothing to do with driving."

"Then what's the use?" she insisted.

"Plenty! You wouldn't be here otherwise." he replied. Her mouth fell open in amazement.

"Now, because you're young I'm not going to give you all of the technical details, but let's just say in this condensed version that when a fellow and a lady dearly love and care about each other that there's some certain way they can meet up and there's a chance when that happens that they can have a child, in this case, I'm meaning you."

"Does kissin' have to do with it?" Gracie pressed.

"It can sometimes." he agreed.

"You mean I could have a li'l brother or sister?!" the little Cadillac asked, getting hyped.

"Maybe, but a baby doesn't come about every time."

"Why not?" she asked.

"It just… doesn't." Hudson answered vaguely.

"Can Mama give me a sister anytime she wants?" Gracie pushed.

"No, she still needs me for that. She can't have a baby without me." he replied.

Grace's expression turned to pure astonishment. "You mean I wouldn't be here without you?!"

"Well, I—"

"That's magic, Daddy! You know magic tricks!"

"Well, it isn't—"

"Do another trick for me, Daddy!" she squealed.

"I…" he started and then finished with sigh. "Alright. Watch this." He snapped his headlights on and in the blink of an eye changed them from low-beams to the brights, back to low-beam and then to off.

"How did you do that that fast?!" she asked.

He offered her a smile and replied, "Magic. I can't tell you my secret, you know."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

LATER that evening after Gracie had fell asleep Cornelia and Hudson stayed up as usual and just conversed with one another about a mix of subjects. The Cadillac, remembering the event earlier in the day asked, "What was it that Gracie wanted to talk to you about this afternoon? She seemed so insistent on seeing you."

"Oh, that." he said with a quiet laugh. "She was wondering where she came from; seems like that one conversation she had with Ramone planted the thought in her head."

"She asked you _that_? She asked me also, but I… I thought she was too young to know."

"I gave her a condensed version, nothing too serious." he assured her.

"But you _told_ her?" she asked, her spring-green eyes wide.

"Well, she wasn't going to let it go that easy. I just gave her a basic idea. I told her that we have some different parts."

"What did she say?" Cornelia asked.

"She wanted to know if I had a muffler and a fan belt."

Cornelia stifled a giggle at this. "What else did she say?"

"Well," Hudson replied. "Once she got the basic idea that she wouldn't exist if it weren't for you and I having a certain sort of close companionship, she got the idea in her head that I know magic."

The Cadillac couldn't hide her reaction to this and laughed softly. "Now that's a word for it I never thought of! Yes, that's definitely one nifty magic trick, Hudson."

"Abracadabra, am I right?" he said, giving her a playful nudge.

She cuddled up against his side and offered, "Well, I guess we knew she'd ask all about that subject one day. I'm glad you handled it. I was planning on you doing it anyway, being the good Doctor of Internal Combustion that you are. Now let's just hope the next subject she doesn't get fixated on is wanting a sibling."

"To be honest with you, darling, I think she was already hinting at it." he replied, giving her fender a nuzzle in return.

"Wellll, I'm not throwing the idea out. I wouldn't mind having another child. Like I told you, I want a dozen children. One down, 11 to go." she teased.

"If all of those eleven would be as smart as Grace and would want to know that sort of biology so young, I'm in no hurry."

"Oh, Hudson, you know I'm just joking you. I'll be plenty happy to have two children." she said, smiling.

"Now that's a relief. You certainly know how to put the fear in a fella, Cornelia." he replied, mirroring the smile.

"You crazy guy. It's impossible to not love you, you know. If I actually wanted a dozen children, you're the only one I'd choose for their daddy." she told him.

"I'll be sure to let you know if my mind changes then one day, honey."


	25. Chapter 25

25~

 **1958**

As Grace got older, she seemed to have grown more-or-less silent on the factor of maybe wanting a sibling, but there was something else that she didn't lose: her interest in racecars and the world in which they were king. Cornelia saw herself in so many ways within her daughter. Hudson was forced too often to think of his past. The girl eagerly devoured whatever material she could get her grasp on regarding this competitive sport. Hudson felt it was only a matter of time until she learned of the name he once wore. As chance had it, she did, but it was during a weekday while he was at work.

"Mama, this magazine says that from 1951 to 1953 there was a famous racer called the Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

Cornelia knew too that this day would come, but found she wasn't prepared. She stiffened but tried to say conversationally, "Oh really, Grace?"

The younger Cadillac pored over the magazine she had been able to acquire in a heap of rubbish she'd found behind the V8 Café. "Mmmhmm. He won three Piston Cup trophies! That's amazing! It says here that he was the most successful car in the circuit and was able to even able to beat the rookies. It says 'The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had skills that these new kids only hoped to have. He had excellent training and the most famous maneuver he had in his set of skills was drifting, which enabled him to execute turns that made other cars lag behind. His ability to do this would send him far ahead of his fellow racers and therefore closer to the finish line.' What an amazing car, Mama. I wonder if he still races."

"Maybe the story will say, honey." Cornelia said, trying to keep a sad note out of her voice.

Grace thoroughly read the article with enraptured eyes until she got to what Cornelia knew she would. "Oh no… no… that's horrible… It says here Mama that in 1954 the Fabulous Hudson Hornet was competing in what would be his 4th race for the Piston Cup when around the 35th lap he went into his drift and something mechanically went amiss with his engine. His tires lost traction on the dirt track and there was nothing he could do to stop. It says, 'This tragic mishap caused him to crash end over end more than 4 times before coming to a stop. This accident caused him to be out for the racing reason."

Cornelia didn't know what else to say, so let silence suffice.

Gracie went to the end of the article and then continued, "It says here that he never raced again after the circuit rejected him. He spent a year or so in town with his wife until disappearing at some unknown point to an unknown town." The girl looked up, and when she met her mother's eyes added, "What a sad story, Mama."

"It is sad, honey. It is." Cornelia said, unable to hide the tone in her voice this time.

Grace looked at the article again and then to the black-and-white photo of #51 in his untroubled years. "He looks like Daddy." she murmured. "If Daddy had been a racecar instead of a doctor."

The older Cadillac simply nodded.

Hudson was also faced with his daughter's new knowledge of a car she knew as only the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. He dealt with it the best way he could and shuttered any recognition from his features when replying to her chatter about this. He remained neutral at best and within those silent moments at night, rehashed everything over a thousand times. Those moments were some of the worst. He knew the hope of keeping his past buried wouldn't work now, for night after night it assaulted him and sometimes in the early hours when he'd close his eyes, he relived his crash again.

"Daddy, they told him when he was done. He didn't choose. That seems so wrong and just… so unfair." Grace lamented to him on one weekend in May.

Hudson offered her a shallow nod. "Unfortunately, life isn't fair a lot of times, Grace. A lot of bad things happen to good folks."

"It's sad… he was such a brilliant car; he really _was_ fabulous, just like his racing name said. That one story I read said that after he was rejected he eventually moved at some point to an unknown town. Where do you think he went?" the girl asked her father.

Hudson looked within his daughter's soft-blue and wondering eyes. "I haven't any idea, honey. When someone wants to find a place to lose themselves, often times they just never want to be found again."

The girl pondered. "I guess that makes sense, Daddy. Why would someone want to be a part of the world that just gave up on them?"

"Exactly so." he replied.

"You know what, Daddy?" she began.

"What's that?"

"There are a lot of racecars who have had success and are still having success. I can admire them, but they don't really have the same sort of story to them. They don't have some sad and unknown mystery to them. I've decided that although I still like a lot of the others, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet is going to be my only true favorite. Even if he never raced again after his crash, he still had a lot of might. He came back after that accident, which took a lot of courage, even though he was turned away. I don't think a lot of others would have that bravery. Wherever he found a place to lose himself, I also hope he found his way."

Hudson leaned over to give his daughter a long and loving nuzzle and replied, "Something tells me that he did."

. . . .

On that following Sunday, Grace expressed interest in visiting with Flo for a spell and now that she was growing up and was a lot smarter about watching for others and was more versed on her driving etiquette, Cornelia let her take the short trip on her own. She and Hudson watched her till they were certain she had made a safe entry into the Café lot before turning to each other.

"She knows," was all Hudson said to his wife.

Cornelia nodded her hood. "Some car she knows only as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet has captured her heart. Her passion reminds me so much of myself."

"She's a lot like you, darling." he answered.

"I wish so much that she knew this amazing car wasn't a stranger but is her own father. She would be so amazed."

"And her passion would be ruined." he finished.

"Ruined? But… how can you say that?" she asked him, confused.

He sighed, his eyes following the activity of the V8 until turning back to his wife. "Yes, ruined. Ruined because if she knew who I was, she would be too concerned about me. Her interests would drop when she realized this favorite car of hers isn't some distant stranger."

"But… why is it horrible she'd be concerned about you? Why is it horrible for her to find her favorite car in the circuit is actually no stranger but in fact her _father_? Why is that a bad thing, Hudson?" she pressed.

A long pause fell and Cornelia was helpless to wonder what he was thinking. Finally he sighed and said, "It's a bad thing because it would take her mind off of the joy she's experiencing now. I want her to enjoy her interest without it being overshadowed by my own bad side of it."

"Telling your daughter about you won't ruin her interest. She'll likely love you all the more for it. She already thinks you're the most incredible thing on 4 wheels as it is. I'm not going to deny that what happened to you was traumatic, but you aren't helping anyone by trying to deny it and acting like it didn't happen. You don't know how much I want to look her in her eyes and tell her that this car she's set her sights on is her father. You don't know how much I want to tell her about my own love for the sport and how from the first time I saw you, the love I had for _you_ became greater than the sport. I want to tell her about the first time I had the chance to say hello to you and what happiness that brought me for days afterward… no, weeks! You don't know how much I want to tell her about those wonderful evenings we'd spend in that park in Thomasville watching the sunset as the colors painted our chrome work, enhancing the beauty a hundredfold. I want to tell her about how my heart burst with happiness when you asked me to marry you and made my young girl-dream of becoming Mrs. Cornelia Hornet come true!" she bewailed. This time the tears that fell from her eyes and slipped down her hood didn't shock her.

"I want to tell her about how for me the crash of 1954 wasn't something I only knew about third person from a newspaper story. I want to tell her about how I sat there at the edge of the raceway and watched you go in for that drift and I saw what happened to make your engine catch and I _saw_ you go end over end in that crash only to come to a broken and battered heap in the middle of the track. I want to tell her how I feared our marriage had ended before it began and at that moment I prayed to whoever would listen for them to please not take my beloved husband from me now. I want to tell her how I visited you in those days you endured repairs and how you managed to still look so stately but in such a sad way with your dents and scrapes and crumpled hood and crumpled grille and worst of all your broken front axle which gave you such a heartbreaking carriage."

She blinked again, her vision all blurred and bedimmed by tears. In a softer voice she continued, "I want to tell her how possible true love is that she should never give up in her life, because _I've_ found a love like that that runs so deep and unconditional and at sometimes it's so endless that it can hurt but I would never trade it for anything."

Her companion gave her a gentle nudge that she responded to immediately by crumpling into his polished blue side. A loosed tear from her eyes slid sideways across her hood where it eventually met Hudson's side. From there it obeyed the laws of gravity and slowly traced its way down the long steel curvature of his body. Movement ceased when its track was interrupted by the chrome rocket which read across it in smart red block letters _HORNET_.

"All I want to do, Hudson," Cornelia said in a soft tone. "Is tell Grace about how her favorite racecar isn't a stranger… he's her father."


	26. Chapter 26

26~

The love Cornelia and Hudson had for each other somehow wasn't strained by what their daughter's interest brought upon them; instead it seemed to grow kinder and sweeter. He knew he would have to tell Grace about who he was one day, he had promised his wife he would. It was just a matter now of when.

"I trust you to do what's right, Hudson." she told him one evening in June. Grace had been spending the extra evening hours with Flo, for she was becoming a great help to the Café owner when it came to assisting all of the many customers who'd come through the town before the station closed for the night. Being there made her so happy, so her parents let her.

"I now trust you with some other matter as well." Cornelia led in, offering her husband her beautiful smile.

"You have only to name it, darling." he assured.

She rested her fender up against his and met his striking blue eyes with her pair of green. "I want to give Grace a brother or sister. Having a sibling could be such fun for her and I know she'd enjoy the extra company. You can either give me another Cadillac or something entirely different and amazing."

He couldn't help but smile. "I'm afraid all I can give you _is_ another Cadillac, Cornelia. I'm an outdated car myself and although I'm sure you'd like to have a baby Mercedes Benz—which would be something 'different and exciting'—I simply can't. If you want something different, you'll have to trade me in for a whole new fellow."

With eyes closed she gave him a long nuzzle and said, "I don't want anyone else, so I guess I'll have to keep you."

"Difficult task?" he asked.

"Very difficult." she replied upon opening her eyes.

"Could anything be done to make such a task less of a hindrance?" he offered.

She nodded. "Why don't you kiss me and we'll see how I feel after that?"

Only ever too happy to fulfill her wishes, he slowly turned to face her and when they were only a few inches apart he said, "Alright, I want you to picture this other fellow who'd be able to give you an exotic child and maybe that'll make this all more tolerable."

"Sounds like a plan, Mister Hornet." she said with a little grin.

The leaned in those few inches to kiss and when they parted Hudson asked, "How'd it go? You picture some fellow of your dreams?"

Cornelia smiled softly answering, "Yes, I sure did. He was quite the handsome guy, too; one of those who had eyes that could only be described properly as 'beautiful'. He was a very appealing looking car and very stylish. Lots of shiny chrome."

"Mercedes Benz?" he inquired.

She gave him a firm but playful shove and laughed. "No, silly! Someone a whole lot better than some foreign car: an American born and raised Hudson Hornet, the _only_ fellow of my dreams!"

He gave her a smile and retorted, "I'm not too average for you after all, I take it?"

"You never will be," she promised and nuzzled him affectionately for a number of seconds before pulling around and rubbing up against the length of his side in a slow sort of manner. When she drew at near even lengths to him, she cast her eyes over to meet his and tsked, "I don't think you really thought I was daydreaming about some foreign car, were you?"

"Well, I hoped you weren't." he admitted.

"You've nothing in the world to worry over then. My dedication lies with you only." she purred, giving him a wink.

"You're mighty lucky that your ways haven't given me an engine attack, you know that?" he asked.

She gradually sank lower on her shocks until her chrome trim very nearly touched the floor and fixed her companion with a smoldering gaze. "I have a fair idea that you can handle a lot, Hudson. For that reason, I don't mind being a bit of a tease to you. I'm through with an act though right now. Our daughter thought that your ability to give me a baby was something like magic, so why don't you perform that trick again?"

He gave her a wink and offered, "Abracadabra, my dear?"

"Something like that, Mister Hornet."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

THINGS went normal around town and around the Hornet household for around a month and a half with Grace helping Flo out at the V8 Café when she could and the whole family sometimes going out for drives on weekends until Cornelia started falling sick. Her appetite went the same direction as her energy: south. She spent more time than she cared to recall cooped up at home and only venturing out if she really saw a need for it. Finally one day she turned to her husband and said, "Alright. The last time I felt like this you were concerned about me but didn't have any idea what was wrong with me. Now you actually _are_ a doctor, so why don't you tell me what ails me?"

"Alright. What are your symptoms?" he complied.

"I have no get-up-and-go; I have no appetite; seeing even an _empty_ oil can revolts me and I also feel moody. There it is presented to you on a nice silver platter, Doc Hudson."

"Can you think of an event that may have triggered this?"

"Yes I can. It seems like everything went downhill for me after I engaged in a particular brand of close companionship with a 1951 Hudson Hornet who knows how to love and treat a woman better than any other random guy driving around this very minute."

He offered her his charismatic smile and said, "Well, I think I've figure out what ails you from that description."

She returned the smile. "Don't tell me, I already know. It looks like I'm going to be able to call myself a mother for the second time around."

"You're exactly right, Mrs. Hornet, and you didn't even need me to tell you that."

She came over to give him a kiss on the side of his scratched up fender and replied, "Well, I figured it was worth testing your knowledge every so often. Anyhow, thank you, Hudson. Remember, 2 children down and ten to go."

Returning a kiss to her he said with the same smile, "I'll keep that in mind, darling."

. . . .

When Grace learned the news that she was to acquire the title of being a sister, she could scarcely believe it and her excitement couldn't be lessened for weeks. In fact, she put her racing interest as second place and was more involved with wondering about the future with a sibling. Now that she was older Hudson gave her the non-condensed version of where exactly children came from and although she seemed to be a little disappointed there was no magic involved, her joy waned none.

"Oh, what can we name the baby?!" she exclaimed to her mother one evening.

Cornelia laughed and answered, "It's a little soon to think about that, isn't it, dear? After all, we all have to wait a whole lot more months before he or she is here!"

She looked downcast momentarily and said, "Yeah… that's true. I hope I get a sister. That'd be so much fun."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see." she said, giving her daughter a little nudge.

To her husband Cornelia had told, "If it's a boy this time, I swear to you that I want to name him Hudson Hornet the Second."

"Oh please…" he groaned. "Anything but my dull name."

"You fall for that every single time, Hudson. You know I'm joking you, don't you?" she asked, grinning.

"I actually _don't_ know."

"Well, I promise you I won't. A cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die kind of promise." she vowed.

"I don't mind you promising, but leave out that 'hope-to-die' part, honey."

"It's just a phrase, Hudson. It doesn't mean anything." she said with a sweet smile.

"I know that, but it's still an awful phrase. Just a 'cross-your-heart' promise is fine with me." he said.

"Alright, Hudson. You've got it."

With the news of the second expected child, Cornelia had planned to actually just tell her parents in person about it along with visiting them. She hadn't seen them since she and Hudson had been together and was feeling more than a little guilty of letting so much time go by aside from just the occasional call or letter.

"I think I'd like to go and just visit them for a week to see how they are." she pitched to her husband.

"Well, that's a fine and good idea, but I'm not letting you go until the weather is better." he started.

"I know, Hudson. I'll go when the weather turns cooler. I got the message."

"I'm only concerned for you, Cornelia." he told her gently.

She smiled warmly and answered, "I know that, and I'm glad you do care. I won't do anything irrational or crazy."

"I wouldn't mind going with you but I—"

"The town needs you here, Hudson. Sure, not all that many folks come in to see you, but all it would take would be for one thing to come up and if you weren't here, it'd be bad."

"I just feel bad about letting you go on your own."

"You'd feel worse if an emergency happened under your leave and no one was around to assist. I'll be fine, Hudson. I'm a big girl and I can take the trip on my own. Don't worry." she said, coming up to lean into his side.

"I don't distrust you, I just wish I could come with you." he answered.

"I'll only be gone a week. You can live without me for seven days." she teased.

"You really think so?"

"I really think so. If you get bored then I'm sure Flo wouldn't mind having Grace _and_ you help her at the Café in the evening." she offered.

He looked considerate and finally said, "Now _that's_ an idea."

"Can you at least promise me one thing, Hudson?" she asked.

"Name it and I will, Cornelia."

"Just don't look at Flo's tailfins."


	27. Chapter 27

27~

It was a slow evening at the V8 Café; the travelers had all come in earlier and around 8 a slump fell, leaving only a few of the town locals under the station's canopies. The hillbilly tow truck, Mater, sat a few pumps down chattering with the old Model T, Lizzie. Luigi had just left a few minutes prior. Grace surveyed the scene before pulling up alongside of Flo where she sat in the doorway of the café. "It's such a nice night." she quipped, looking at the lit neon which lent such a stylish air to the establishment. Flo nodded her hood in acknowledgement.

"It sho' is, honey." she softly answered.

"You enjoy having a job like this, Flo?" the young Cadillac asked the older car. She nodded once more.

"I do, I really do. It's a busy job, that's for sure, but I love it. I love meeting go many different folks. Some I see only once but some always come back. I look forward to that."

Grace smiled. "Well, if I wasn't from around here, I'd probably come back too. You're a lot of fun, Flo."

The beautiful mint-green car looked to her with an expression that was a mixture of a bit of astonishment and something like maternal affection. "Aww, baby girl, that's so sweet of you to say."

"I mean it!" Grace insisted.

"Thank you, honey. You're a whole heaping of fun also."

The younger car giggled. A few moments of silence passed before the girl asked, "And what about your children, Flo? What do they think of you?"

The ex-Motorama belle continued to stay silent for a spell, her bright-green eyes downcast to her hood. When she looked up again she replied softly, "I wouldn't know what they think, considering I don't have any children of my own, honey."

"You… don't?" Grace asked.

Flo shook her hood slowly for a no. "I don't. It isn't for lack of wanting though. I guess it just isn't in the plans for me."

"I'm sorry…" the young Cadillac said, unsure of what would be more proper.

Flo cast her gave over to her companion and said, "You don't have a single thing to be sorry about, honey. Some things just happen in life and some things don't. I've realized that I prob'ly wouldn't be able to give a youngster the care they'd need, running a busy place like this. You see, the folks that come in here—the ones I've seen time and again—they aren't just travelers to me. They and all the folks 'round town are family to me, a big extended family. And you, honey,"

"Yes?" Grace encouraged.

The car with soaring tailfins gave the girl a warm smile. "You are like the daughter I wished I'd had, and I'm not saying that since so many folks think we're related because of our fins, baby. You are everything I could of hoped for; so sweet and caring towards everyone. I know you probably don't remember much when you were smaller, but it made me so happy when your parents let you stay the 'weekend' with me when they had their wedding anniversary. Having those four-and-a-half days to 'adopt' you just gave me such joy. Just like how I love having you here every evening."

Grace smiled shyly and said, "I love being around you. Maybe…"

"Maybe what, honey?" Flo asked.

The young Cadillac thought and then replied, "Well… since folks think we're related, I have an idea. Can I call you my second mother? I think you're kind of like one to me anyways."

When Flo heard that, her reaction was to offer a smile more brilliant than any other. "Why, I don't think I know what to say to that… I think being struck speechless is true after all, even for _me_!"

"You're not… upset?" Grace ventured.

"Upset?! Why, I think I'm prob'ly the most elated gal in Carburetor County right now!" Flo exclaimed.

Grace's reaction was to simply snuggle up against the mint-green car in the same fashion she'd show to her mother. Flo looked upon her with unmistakable love, thinking that she won something a whole lot better that one night than most any folk would win with a whole life of gambling.

She now had someone who, in whatever fashion, could think of her as a mother.

. . . .

That weekend Cornelia felt a little too tired for a Sunday drive, but because the weather was fair and a breeze cooled the air, Hudson did what only seemed natural.

"Would you still like to go for a cruise with me, Grace?" he asked his daughter.

The young Cadillac looked up from a newspaper she had been reading and smiled. "Sure I will, Daddy, if…" she turned to her mother. "Is it okay?" she asked.

Cornelia nuzzled her daughter and replied, "Of course it's okay. I love your company but I also love having you get out and enjoy the day also."

"Alright, Mama." she said, giving her mother a kiss on the side of her fender before slowly following her father outside. Once out, they turned onto the main street heading out of town. No words were passed between them for a little while and then Hudson cast a glance over to his daughter and said, "You're so good to your mother, Grace. Thank you for taking care of her when I'm not home."

Grace laughed softly and replied, "Oh, she doesn't let me 'take care' of her, Daddy. I try to do what I can for her, though. I know she's tired."

"She is. Just doing what she lets you though, thanks for that. Sometimes she's too tough for her own good." he said with soft smile.

Grace's mind was fraught with wondering, and with unmasked concern she asked, "Does it… does it hurt her?"

"Having your sibling, you mean?" he asked.

"Yes. Does it hurt her?" she pressed.

He glanced away from the road again for a moment to meet her worried soft-blue eyes. "It doesn't hurt her… not right now. I think the better word would be that she could be pretty uncomfortable, but that can fade after a few months."

"Are you sure?" the girl asked.

"Well, I can never hope to be entirely sure, Grace, but I do know she doesn't hurt any this early on. She'd let me know if that was the case, you know how your mother is. She's quite the feisty gal."

"I guess that's true…" the young Cadillac considered, comforted by her father's words. "Did you know that Flo doesn't have any children?" she asked.

"I heard from your mother,"

"She seems so sad about it… I felt so bad. I asked if I could think of her as my second mother. I was worried she'd be mad, but she wasn't. She looked… amazed. Amazed that anyone would say that to her."

When she met her father's darker blue eyes he said, "Grace, you have to be the sweetest and most generous girl I could ever hope to have. You're so caring to everyone it seems like; I'm proud of you, more than I could ever tell you."

"Awww, Daddy…"

He slowed to a stop upon the empty roadway and gave his daughter his entire attention when she did the same. "I mean it, Grace. You and your wonderful mother are the two best ladies I could ever have in life."

She didn't know how to say exactly how she felt, so she did the next best thing. Easing up beside him she snuggled up against his indigo-blue side and whispered, "I think you're the best daddy I could ever have also."

"Think…?" he gently teased.

"Know," she corrected.


	28. Chapter 28

28~

When autumn arrived and the cool weather came daily, Cornelia made her plans to go visit her parents and also let them know about the expected child. Grace also wanted to go with her, but her mother discouraged the idea. "Wait until your older… it can be awfully crazy dealing with other cars on the road. Some are nice but some are just fools. You have more than enough time ahead of you to experience that. Enjoy your time here now." she had told her daughter. Grace was still dissatisfied but didn't argue. She would stay behind and keep her father company, which wasn't a difficult task at all, but the idea of being out on the open road was still pretty thrilling.

On the evening before Cornelia's leave, Grace again assisted Flo at the V8 Café. It was as average as any other day aside from the fact she wanted to come home a little earlier so as to spend some extra time with her mother before she'd be gone for a whole seven days. When she looked on the calendar, those 7 days weren't that long in retrospect, but it'd still be the longest she'd been without her mom. She wasn't the only one who wasn't looking forward to it.

"Are you absolutely certain I can survive for 7 days without you, Cornelia?" her husband asked as they sat together that evening.

The jade-green Cadillac rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Hudson, for Chrysler's sake. You lived for a couple _years_ before you even knew me."

"Those are the key words: before I knew you. Now I do and I know exactly what to miss."

"My grouchy personality courtesy of being pregnant?" she asked with a smirk.

Now he was the one to casually roll his eyes. "No, honey. Try that sweet and loving personality you have every other time."

"That's my second persona. Right now I'm grouchy and cantankerous."

"I think you're simply trying to fool with me right now and distract me from missing you come tomorrow." he answered compliantly.

"A woman has her ways," she teased.

"And you are not short on those many ways, either." he told, leaning over to offer her a nuzzle she was only too happy to accept. As she closed her eyes she murmured, "I guess I'll miss you too, Hudson. You're a pretty fine fellow even if you do get me into a 'fix' every so often." To this she opened her eyes half-way and smiled softly.

"If I remember right, you wanted to be in that 'fix'. I don't easily forget that look you give me, Cornelia. I tried to say this before around Grace when she was a little thing and now that she's not here I'll see if I have any luck saying it again without you shushing me: You're a genuine seductress when you want to be, darling." he said, offering her a wink.

She acted nonchalant and replied, "Well, you don't know how a woman feels when she's faced with such a classy chassis. It makes her act irrational."

"Did I say I minded?" he asked.

"I suppose not, Hudson. I'm rather hoping you won't be a dull fellow tonight, actually, and that you wouldn't refuse me your stellar sort of kiss. Did you go to Gentleman's School to learn that well?" she asked.

"If such a thing exists, I never knew about it or went." he answered.

"So humble," she jested.

He slowly pulled around to face her head on and said in reply, "Why would I cheat a girl I love out of a kiss that says exactly how I feel for her?"

"Precisely. You're being wordy, Hudson. Give me that which words can't say."

It took only a few seconds for him to look over her as he always would, but what he always saw was lasting: a sweetly beautiful jade-green Cadillac whose eyes sparkled in another shade of green that didn't seem to have a word to truly describe them; a Cadillac with shining chrome touches and a gold-plated hood ornament that gleamed in even the faintest light.

He pulled up as near to her as possible and then leaned forward for the rest of those few inches to kiss her. He had kissed her goodness knows how many times since they had gotten married, but it never once had become old nor a dull gesture. His love for her had never lessened, but instead grew. He may have shunned the world he once knew in every other way, but if he hadn't once been a racecar, he never would have met her. For that, he had his gratitude. He may have lost his career in one horrible crash, but he gained a lifelong companion instead, something that meant a great deal more than another useless trophy. He also thought about how in very nearly every way, what she was and what he was were different, from style to power to speed. To even their opposing grille designs. Yet, when he kissed her, those two different grilles would lie against one another as if a Cadillac Eldorado and a Hudson Hornet were meant to be together.

And in this case, they were.

. . . .

The next day Cornelia wanted to leave at an early time, but this didn't cheat her out of spending a few last hours with her family. When the last moment came, she pulled out onto the drive outside of the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic where the others soon joined her.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mama…" Grace lamented.

Cornelia gave her a little nudge and said, "Cheer up now, sweetheart, because I'll be home before you know it. It's only seven days. That's not long at all."

"It's long enough…" she sighed.

"You'll be so busy helping Flo over at the V8 that you may not even think about me! Look how fast that'll make time go by." the older Cadillac offered.

Grace met her eyes. "I'd never _not_ think about you, Mama."

To her husband Cornelia said, "I bet you anything that you'll be so busy playing doctor that you won't think about me either. You'll think to yourself, It sure is nice not being around Cornelia when she's in her moods."

Hudson laughed and said, "No chance of that happening. Moods and all, I enjoy your company."

"You'll survive."

"Just barely," he added.

Cornelia rolled her eyes and turned back to her daughter to whisper, "I think your father might have a meltdown in the near future. Keep an eye on him for me and if he seems to act odder than usual, just notify Sheriff and he'll stick him in impound until I come back."

This prompted a smile and laughter from Grace.

"I did not just hear every word you said." Hudson said from Cornelia's other side. The Cadillac rose up from her conspiratorial crouch towards her daughter and now faced her husband.

"Hudson, if you insist on being so clingy, I may have to see if ol' Mr. Treadwell is still around back home and maybe is still interested in me."

"That threat doesn't scare me, darling." he said with that winning smile she never grew tired of seeing.

"Didn't think it would," she sighed. "Alright, I should get a move on. You two will survive and I bet you anything you'll be so busy; you'll be shocked when I come back. I'll bring back plenty of stories, because goodness knows Dad is loaded with them and a fair share of crazy opinions to boot."

"We'll look forward to it." Hudson told her.

She cranked over her quiet engine and once it smoothly ran, Grace came over to kiss her and wish her well. "Have a safe trip, Mama. I love you."

"I love you too, honey." she answered, returning the affection. Hudson bestowed his next and when he slightly drew back told, "I can say only the same. Have a safe trip, Cornelia, drive carefully. Nothing will stop us from missing you."

She gave him a kiss as well and said, "I know, dear. Thank you for the wish; I love you."

With a classy wink, he answered, "I love you even more."


	29. Chapter 29

29~

Out in the wide-open country as Cornelia drove eastward, she was met with only a few other travelers traveling down her stretch of highway, but no matter how many or few, she called out a cheerful 'hello' or 'what a beautiful day' to her fellow motorists. When stretches came with no one around, her mind turned to her destination and wondering how her folks would react. Her father would surely have a plethora of opinions to wave about regarding everything under the sun. She wondered also whether or not her mother would still make any commentary regarding Mr. Treadwell. She kind of hoped the dull old Packard was still around so as she could flash her gold hood ornament at him as a visual proof she was indeed happily taken.

Cruising the blacktop onward, she also reflected on her life the past five years and how the last time she had come down this road, she and her husband were only a group of two, Grace not yet born. Now here she was, able to call herself a true mother and within the passage of next year, a mother again. She pondered what her new son or daughter would look like this time. Would he or she have more of those modern tailfins? Would they resemble their father at all? Although her teasing of Hudson was gentle-spirited, it _was_ funny that Grace didn't resemble him in the least. Even though it seemed crazy, what he had said was true, though. Despite being young, he was already an outdated car. Cornelia had seen a Hudson younger than her companion come into Radiator Springs one afternoon and had been strictly revolted! He had been so odd and plain ugly. The Cadillac had considered her husband a thousand times handsome after seeing that imposter!

Cornelia stopped mid-afternoon in Crankstown for a short rest and a fill-up at the town station. As she sat under the canopy of said station and partook of her lunch, she silently thanked Hudson for making her wait for autumn until she took her trip. The 70° breezes felt so good and made the drive a lot easier. She never did like to travel fast and the pleasant weather made a cruise all the more inviting.

She lingered in Crankstown only for a bit past an hour before pulling out onto the road again and continuing on her drive east. From the southwest storm clouds had begun to gather and she found herself hoping they'd bring rain. Driving in a light drizzle was something like a magical experience with all of the myriad reflections in the drops and of course the possibility of a rainbow made it a delight also. When the rain cleared the air, leaving everything so fresh and new and beautiful, it was a true pity to stay indoors, glued to the radio.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Grace had just bestowed a rickety-looking Reo with his desired order before turning back to the conversation she had been having with the mint-green car. "I already miss Mama and she's probably not even out of the state yet…" she sighed.

Flo smiled sympathetically and replied, "It's only natural that you miss her, honey. Just remember though, she'll be back before you know it."

"Seven days feels like forever…"

"Well, I'll keep you plenty busy so you don't have too much time to feel upset. You never know when a whole heap of hungry travelers will come on in for a drink."

"That's true… I'm glad I have you, Flo." the young Cadillac said, meeting the eyes of her older companion.

"I'm glad I have you too, baby. You're a true delight." she answered. This prompted the smile she'd hoped for from the girl.

"Say, why don't you run on back and see what up with your daddy and if he's not all occupied with anything, make him haul his bumper over here. Think you wanna do that?" Flo added.

Grace looked around to make sure no one was around that needed extra help and then smiled. "Okay, Flo. I'll go see."

The young Cadillac left the station and drove only a short distance before turning into the lot of her father's business. Although the Mechanical Clinic had closed for the day some time earlier, a glow still emanated from the windows indicating he was still inside occupied with something. Grace slowly drove up to the double doors and leisurely drove in.

"Hello Daddy," she greeted.

"Grace. I didn't expect you." he said and turned away from a confusing looking jumble of x-rays pinned onto the back-light upon the wall.

"I like being sneaky." the girl said as she pulled up beside him and nuzzled his right fender.

"You take after your mother," he said, smiling.

Grace smiled back. "I came because Flo wants to know if you'd like to just come over to the Café with me for awhile, just to get out of here. I think she's worried about us."

"Because for both of us seven days without your mother seems like 70 years?" he asked with his common good humor.

"Something like that." Grace laughed. "So, do you want come with me, just for a little while?"

"I wouldn't say no to much of anything my little girl would ask." he agreed.

"Alright then… can you go over to Ramone's and get painted up with flames?" she teased.

"I will say no to that!" he retorted. Grace couldn't help but laugh anew.

"Come on, Daddy, let's go. Maybe you'll think about a nifty new paintjob on the way over." she wheedled.

He shook his hood. "Wouldn't your mother just think I drove off the deep end if she came back and saw me painted with flames…?"

"We might really, really like it!" she said, giving him a little nudge.

"Or you might really, really hate it!" he answered with a laugh before following her out the doors and back to the V8 Café.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cornelia stopped for the night at the Thunderbird Motel which was appropriately operated by a red-and-white Ford Thunderbird. He assigned her a corner room, let her know what sort of complimentary breakfast was afforded come morning and wished her happy travels. The Cadillac wasn't too shocked to find the décor in her room was all Ford themed, and couldn't help but wonder how a car like her father would have a simple fit over what he called "the Rivals." He didn't seem to have many fond feelings for anyone who wasn't a Cadillac, but then he was difficult in a variety of ways.

The jade-green car had scarcely inspected the pictures hanging on the walls before she just submitted to her weariness and sank on her shocks all the way to the floor. Good gracious, she was tired. It seemed to her that she felt more exhausted this time than when she was first expecting Grace. The last thing she thought about before falling asleep was that maybe having a dozen children wasn't going to be such a hot idea after all.

She slept soundly and woke up delightfully refreshed and ready to start the second leg of her trip after indulging in the no-frills free breakfast. As she turned out onto the highway, the breeze that swept over her felt so cool and energizing that she was certain that sometime somewhere during the night rain had fallen, banishing all of the dust from the air if only for a little while. She took a deep breath, smiling with pleasure at such a wonderful day. Eager to share her joy, she sang out a cheerful "good morning" to the first motorist headed her way. He didn't seem too terribly happy, but maybe just maybe, she hoped, such a stellar day would enliven him as well.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"If you get to feelin' a bit too bored, you're welcome to help me out, you know." Flo said with her welcoming smile to Hudson when Grace had managed to tug him along to the Café the following evening as well.

Hudson returned a smile to the Motorama beauty and replied, "Well, that's kind of you to offer, Flo, but even if I didn't have my job, I doubt I'd be any good at yours."

"What do you mean, honey? If you can have the smarts to be a doctor, I'm sure you have the smarts to work at a café!" she laughed.

Hudson casually rolled his eyes and answered, "Well, that has its point I reckon, but I think it's safe to say I don't have the same degree of hospitality you and Grace do."

"Is that an excuse? You mean you'd rather pine continually for your girl when you _know_ she'll be back before you know it instead of giving ol' Flo some help?" the mint-green car jested.

"Grace is much better suited, I know that for sure." he said, smiling.

"Well, if you insist. I understand why you must miss Cornelia so much, though. She's a real sweetheart and the baby girl took right after her, I think. You and your wife have to be one of the happiest couples I think I've ever seen."

Hudson nodded in agreement. "She's one of the best parts of my life, the other half being Grace. I never would have thought I'd get so lucky."

"How'd you and Cornelia meet?" Flo asked.

Hudson's first reaction was to tell a white lie, not entirely true and not entirely false. He simply hoped she wouldn't ask for more details.

"We met at a race," was all he said. Thankfully, Flo didn't press for more.

"It sho' is a lucky thing you both were there at the same time!" she quipped.

"It surely was," he agreed. When their eyes met he added, "And what about you? How did you and Ramone meet?"

Flo's polished smile turned wistful. "Well, as your Grace may have told you, I was a Motorama show girl. I toured the whole country with my 'sisters.' Our job was all about showing some modern form of beauty to the world; I got to be known for my tailfins which were bigger than all the others'. We all came here one day to put on a show, and my friends, they all got painted up by this Impala who had one heck of a talent streak. I was the last in line and when I drove in this fella just looked at me all crazy-like. I got ticked off at him and asked if he thought he was too good to paint me. I've dealt with them type before, honey. He looks at me and says, 'Baby, you too good for me to paint!'" The mint-green car softly laughed at the memory. "We were married a short time later, and I've worn my same ol' Motorama girl paintjob since. He calls it perfection. I just think he's bein' foolish!"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cornelia arrived in her old hometown mid-evening after the second day of travel and the first car she happened to see on the lamp-lit road was a burgundy old Packard known by no other name than Mr. Treadwell. She could scarcely believe he was still hanging around after all these years. Didn't he have anything else in life to do? Anywhere else to _go_?

She slowed to a few marks below the speed limit as she pulled up alongside him. It took his topaz eyes only second or two to recollect her.

"Am I seeing the angel of my dreams, a Miss Cornelia Eldorado?!" he asked, his dull chrome bumper curving up into a grin.

"Well, yes and no, Mr. Treadwell." she answered, coming to a stop under the streetlamp when he did.

"Baby, I've told you a thousand times to call me by my first name. Rules haven't changed these past several years, you know." he crowed.

"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Treadwell, but I prefer to be good mannered. Anyway, I'm not actually Cornelia Eldorado anymore." she told him.

His expression turned stunned. "You're…. not?" he asked.

"No, sir. Didn't my parents tell you the news?" she inquired.

"No news that I recall of, but then I was off with my brother for awhile there up in Missouri. We were going to a Packard convention."

Cornelia decided to head him off at the pass now, or he'd never stop sermonizing about his vehicular make. "I got married. I'm surprised the news never made its way to you."

The burgundy old Packard's mouth fell open with a gasp. Cornelia used his moment of being flabbergasted to see if anything about him had changed at all. All of his chrome trimmings had gotten tarnished over time and held not much of a shine to them. His dark paint was unmistakably oxidized in some places and where it wasn't held a flat appearance to it. The Cadillac doubted anyone had been able to see their reflection in it for a long, long time. The newest-looking thing on him was his set of white walls, surprisingly clean and still pretty white where they should be.

"You're married?" he finally said. "I'm plain thunderstruck!"

"I was married nearly five years ago." she replied.

"I'll be…" he said to himself and then sank low on his shocks. "I should of known you'd be by now, but I guess I still held out hope."

He looked up when Cornelia shifted a certain way, her gold hood ornament gleaming in the lamp-light. "And there's proof of it… that is one pretty piece of trimming." he acknowledged, looking over the decoration with a sort of sad interest. He then met her eyes. "Who's the lucky man?"

"His name is Hudson. He's made my life so happy; I'd never ask for more. He's so good to me and he's wonderful to our daughter, Grace." the Cadillac said.

"The girl I set my sights on is a mother now too… I can't believe it…" Mr. Treadwell murmured to no one in particular. Back to her he said, "Well, congratulations. I'm happy for you."

Cornelia smiled lightly. "Thank you. Our second child will be born mid next year."

The old Packard's eyes went wide. "This is three too many pieces of unexpected news, Miss Cornelia. You're telling me that aside from being married for 5 years and having a little girl you're also—"

The Cadillac softly laughed. "Yes, I do happen to be expecting, Mr. Treadwell."

"Son of a gun…" he quietly swore before starting. "Where are my manners…? I am so sorry, Cornelia. Well, congratulations once more to you. This Hudson fella is one lucky guy to have caught you for his wife. I'm going to be sorry probably forever that I didn't have any luck with you, but all I can say is that your guy has good taste."

"I'm lucky to have him," Cornelia said with a smile. They exchanged a few more pleasantries in a meeting that went differently than she thought before finally parting ways. As the beautiful jade-green Cadillac with shiny chrome and an even shinier hood ornament slowly drove out from under the street lamp, the old Packard watched with a mixture of joy, disappointment and grief. His opportunity of calling that splendid girl his intended was a chance revoked. With a sigh, he started up his engine and slowly cruised home.

May as well call up his brother and see where there'd by another Packard convention.


	30. Chapter 30

30~

"We ought to congratulate ourselves, Grace. We've gotten through 2 days without your mother." Hudson told his daughter with a smile.

The young Cadillac couldn't help but smile in return. Now that meant there were only five days left until Cornelia drove back into town. Grace had already planned to be out bright and early waiting by the roadside so as to be able to greet her mother—whenever she'd return. She didn't care if she sat there for hours; so long as she was there to see her mama come back, it'd be worth it.

"What do you think she's doing now?" the girl asked her father.

"Well, I wouldn't really know. Hopefully she's having a good time with her family."

"Have you met them?" she inquired.

"Years ago, when we weren't yet married, I met them. Her dad didn't much like me." he chuckled.

"Why not, Daddy?"

He knew the real reasoning was because he was still a racecar at that time, but he was still hesitant to tell his daughter this. When he did, it would be when Cornelia was around. He hoped to tell that story when the girl's mother returned, to be honest with himself.

"I don't think he liked the type of car I am." Hudson offered.

"There's not a thing wrong with you, Daddy." the girl said with the sweetness she had maintained since being so much smaller.

"You're like your mother in so many ways," he told, giving her a warm and affectionate nuzzle.

"But, there isn't anything wrong with you." she insisted.

"Well, I'm not a Cadillac. That's one thing wrong according to your grandfather."

She scrutinized him and finally concluded, "Well, that's true, but you're really fancy in your own way."

"Fancy…?" he asked, amused.

"Sure you are. You and Mama both have gold on your hood ornaments." she pointed out. He couldn't help but smile.

"I guess you're right," he agreed.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cornelia overnighted in a small motel in town and at the break of morning she left to go seek out her parents. They had always been early risers so she didn't have much chance of waking them up to a shocking surprise. When she drove down the street leading towards her old home, she found that practically nothing in the small neighborhood had changed and surely nothing did once she pulled up at her folks' place. From the curtains in the window to the patch of lawn, everything looked the same. She took a deep breath, hoped for the best and then knocked on the door twice. Grumbling emitted from within and grew louder until the door swung open for her to be greeted with her father and also the chatter of either a television or a radio somewhere in the back.

"Cornelia! Haven't seen you in what seems like 50 years." Charles Eldorado hollered.

"That's why I wanted to visit, Dad!" she said with a laugh. Charles contemplated for a century before saying, "Well, better late than never. Come on in. Your mother's in the back attached to the idiot box, watching some soap opera. She's taken over the TV. I can't even sit and watch Perry Mason at night without her wanting to change the channel."

Cornelia laughed. Once inside the house she looked at her father a little closer and exclaimed, "Dad, you look different." Indeed his forest-green paint seemed a richer tone and his brightwork gleamed.

The older Cadillac tossed his hood nonchalantly and answered, "Well, I had to get a new paintjob. Was out one day and got caught in what I'm calling 'The Little Dust Bowl.' All that blowing sand scratched up my paint and when you're this dark, you notice it. Well, I couldn't drive around looking like that old Packard, so I got redone as soon as possible."

"It looks nice," she said, smiling.

"Well, thank you, honey. When you're lucky enough to be a Cadillac, you can't represent that shabbily."

"Oh, Cornelia! You're here! Oh my goodness, I wasn't expecting you!" a voice cried shrilly and both turned to see Mary Ellen cruising up, looking the same as she did the last time Cornelia saw her. Apparently she hadn't been stuck in The Little Dust Bowl with Charles. Her husband rolled his eyes.

"Well of course you weren't expecting her. Neither of us were." he grumbled.

Cornelia gave her mother a kiss and the two began yammering, as Charles thought of it. Seeing they'd be occupied for the next hour or more, he turned around and slowly made his way back to the television from whence his wife came. On the screen played out a film noir romance with a mobster car kissing his pansy of a moll.

"Chrysler forbid. I can't believe she watches this garbage." Charles muttered to no one and quickly changed the channel. Once some forklifts playing soccer came on, he smiled with enjoyment and immersed himself in the sports program for the next hour, leaving only to fetch a can of oil to indulge in. Towards the end of the first half of the tournament, Mary Ellen came in.

"Honey, I can't believe Cornelia showed up! I was just thinking about her the other day. She must have got my message." she laughed.

Charles didn't glance away from the TV. "Yep," he answered with boredom.

"It sounds like she has some news she'd like to share with us," the yellow Cadillac offered to her husband. The forest-green car watched the winning team make a dumb pass with the ball that severely jeopardized their chances, and cussed at the screen.

"Did you hear me, Charley? Our girl has something she wants to tell us."

"Idiots," he spat at the television, then turned his gaze to his wife. "Tell her I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure, dear. Also, I wish you hadn't changed the channel. It took me forever to get good reception on _The Classy Cord_." she complained.

Charles finally turned his full attention to his wife not only in gaze but in stance. He straightened up on his axles and held his chassis at a rakish angle that he knew looked good. "Why do you need to watch some sappy fake romance about a Cord when you're married to a CADILLAC? _You_ are a Cadillac, for crying out loud!"

Mary Ellen shrugged and said, "Well, the Cord on the program has a British accent."

Charles Eldorado sighed loudly, rolled his eyes and finally said, "Well, that's how it is now, huh? Come on; let's see what our girl has to say."

After the older green and black Cadillac had fetched a new oil can, he joined his wife and daughter in the sitting room. "Well, your mother tells me you've got some news. What's happening?"

Cornelia smiled sweetly and answered, "Hudson and I are expecting our second child."

Mary Ellen reacted instantly. "Oh my goodness! Honey, I had no idea! How far along are you? You aren't showing a bit! How's Gracie feel about this? Oh, I bet she's so excited! I am just so thrilled!"

"Would you calm down, for Chrysler's sake?" Charles snapped, shooting his wife a glare. Back to his daughter he said, "Well, congratulations honey."

Cornelia managed to be stunned by her father's smile. Was it fake or… real? It seemed genuine. "You're actually happy?" she asked. "I thought you'd be…. I don't know… displeased. I know you didn't seem to feel much for Hudson."

The old Cadillac settled on his shocks and replied, "Well, he's not a racecar anymore and from what you tell me, he treats you exactly how you should be treated. I still wish he was a Cadillac, but life isn't perfect. I absolutely mean the congratulations on the kid."

"You've turned out to be such a good mother from what you tell us, honey." Mary Ellen chimed in.

"I do my best, Mom. I tell Hudson that I want a dozen children." she giggled.

"Chrysler on a conveyor belt at the Detroit mill," Charles muttered. "We'll be in the poor house after getting birthday gifts and Christmas gifts for all them."

Cornelia came closer to give her father a nuzzle on his front fender. "I was only joking, Dad. I could never care for twelve."

"You'd be a true wonder woman if you did!" Mary Ellen chuckled. "How's Grace, anyway?"

Cornelia turned back to her mother and smiled. "She's doing so well. She helps out at the town station with the proprietor, Flo. I think I told you about her, didn't I? She's the Motorama car that—"

"Sounds like a gift from heaven. The way you said she had sky-high fins had me daydreaming." Charles said before nonchalantly sucking the straw of his oil can.

"Charles!" Mary Ellen cried. He turned his gaze to her.

"What? Just because I was a young buck in 1938 doesn't mean I can't get my engine revved over beauty now. I'm still a man, for Ford's sake." he huffed.

Mary Ellen leaned in towards her daughter and whispered, "See? What I told you is true. No matter the marriage, men will always stare at another woman. Are you _sure_ Hudson hasn't done that? After all, he is a doctor and he must get some patients of the gentler sex every now and then."

The young Cadillac couldn't help but laugh. "I'm _sure_ , Mom. He's the most faithful fellow on 4 wheels. He's never been less than a gentleman."

"Well, I'm glad he turned out to be alright, for a racecar. Ex-racecar. Is he a good doctor?" she asked. "Does he know his stuff?"

Cornelia nodded her hood. "Oh yes. He is very sharp in the head. I don't think there's much of anything he doesn't know."

"How's he as a father?" she pressed. Charles, seeing he'd have no chance with his gabby wife, sucked on his oil can and stared ahead to some unknown point.

"He's very good at parenting, also. He had a lot of fears before Grace was here, but he's turned out wonderfully. They've bonded so well. She loves him to pieces."

"Does she ever go the office with him?"

"Sometimes she does. When she was younger I kept her away, because there were too many chances of her getting hurt when folks would come in or out, but now that she's older she can do what she wants, mostly. She assists Flo generally, though."

"Does she know that her father is an ex-racecar? And, whether we like it or not, a famous one?" Charles asked, finally seeing a way to join the conversation. Cornelia met his eyes from over his long hood.

"No, Dad. She doesn't. She does have an interest in racing though; she is so much like I was when I was younger. She's also found out about the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, but has no clue that he isn't a stranger."

"Well, why isn't he telling her?" Charles asked.

Cornelia shuffled her right front tire while she thought. "He's just afraid if she knows _he_ is this famous car, she will be too concerned about his story and his life and the horrible thing that happened to him. I think he's worried her interest will be ruined if he tells her this."

"Does he ever plan to tell her or is he going to be secretive about it?" her father continued.

"I think he plans to tell her. I poured out my every thought to him one evening and I know he understood where I was coming from. I want Grace to realize this car she's come to love is no stranger. I want her to know he's her father. I want her to know about how he and I met."

"Well, get on the cuss. Tell him to get his act together and stop playing denial around my granddaughter who, somehow or another, managed to be a blessed Cadillac, for crying out loud. When you told us she was a Caddy, I nearly lost it. I had fears of some crossbred. That Hudson grill is one ugly thing, let me tell you what. I'd hate driving around town with something that looks like the letter 'A' down the middle of my face."

"Charles, _please!_ " Mary Ellen begged. "You're insulting her daughter _and_ her husband."

"Sorry, my mouth got away from me." he coughed. "Forgive me, Cornelia."

"I forgive you, Dad." she promised. With a bright smile she looked to both of them and asked, "When do you both plan on coming out to visit us? I'd love for you to stay for awhile."

"And stay in those blasted road cones you told us about years ago?" Charles huffed.

"Honey… you're doing it again." Mary Ellen warned.

Charles sucked on his oil can and voted silence over getting shushed further by his wife. The yellow Cadillac threw him a reprimanding look before looking back at her expectant daughter.

"Well, maybe we can come sometime in the spring. When is the second young one going to be here?"

Cornelia took a few moments to think and finally said, "Should be around early summer, June."

"Well, you sure aren't showing anything. I'd never know the great news, honey." her mother said with a grin.

"I may not _show_ it yet, but I do _feel_ it! I feel more worn out this time than before Grace was born."

Mary Ellen's eyes went wide. "Honey! Maybe it's double the good news!"

Perplexed, she asked, "Why, what do you mean, Mom?"

Flustered, the yellow Cadillac gave her daughter a nudge and exclaimed, "I remember years ago when my friend Miriam was expecting her child! You remember little Miriam, don't you Charley?"

"Yeah. She was the talkative and nosy Oldsmobile."

Mary Ellen ignored this. "I remember how she felt all woozy and tired when she was with-child, and the reasoning was found on the birth-date: she had twins!"

Now Cornelia's beautiful eyes went wide. Her mother gave her a reassuring nuzzle and said, "Well, don't be too shocked, honey. It's not impossible. Wouldn't that be so very wonderful if you had _three_ children? A trifecta of joy!" She leaned closer to her daughter and whispered, "How much loving have you and your husband engaged in? That may give me the answer of what we're expecting in more ways than one."

"I'm leaving. This is woman talk." Charles huffed and made a three-point turn to leave. Mary Ellen watched until the last of his polished chassis disappeared before looking at her daughter in anticipation. Cornelia found herself fighting back a blush of embarrassment. This was a strictly personal question and answering her own mother with it seemed nearly blasphemous.

"Well…" she finally began in a nervous voice. "It's been a…few times."

"Who initiates?"

"Sometimes I do; sometimes he does."

Mary Ellen pondered this and inquired in a maternally concerned tone, "Is he any good, honey?"

Cornelia fought her embarrassment even further and found herself focusing on her golden hood ornament to ground her mind. Finally she answered, "Well, I guess he's good _enough_ and that he knows what he's doing. I don't think I'd be pregnant twice otherwise, you know."

"But of course, dear!" her mother said, waving it off. "You see, when I watch _The Classy Cord_ on the television, he's a real charmer with the ladies and it got me to wondering if that's really true with some guys." she sighed and added conspiratorially, "Your dad is only romantic when it suits him and even then, he's just a one-trick pony."

From where he sat before the TV—hearing everything—Charles glared. "Son of a gun," he swore to the empty room. "What does she want out of me? I'm not going to ever get a British accent. I got a new paintjob and had my chrome all polished. Isn't that enough?"

Back in the sitting room, Mary Ellen continued lamenting how her marriage didn't compare to the soap operas she watched. Cornelia listened sympathetically, if still masking discomfiture. "Your father is a handsome man, and he knows it." Mary Ellen began.

"You'd better believe it," the old Cadillac said to himself, smiling smugly.

"…but, he sometimes kisses like a dead fish." she continued.

Charles glared even harder at this affront. One more insult and he was going to haul his shiny bumper in there to demand what was the purpose of such insanity. Trying to calm himself, he changed the channel to watch some forklifts play a round of golf.

The yellow Cadillac sighed and said to her daughter, "I always wanted you to have a sibling and your dad always hoped it'd be a brother, to carry on the Eldorado name, but it just never worked. I think your dad has some issues. I'm glad you and Hudson have been lucky."

Charles had heard enough. He killed the TV, made a careful turn and exited that room to enter another with all of his shiny and new-polished glory. Mary Ellen looked up with an expression of embarrassment when she noticed the big forest-green car holding court nearby. "Oh, I didn't realize you were there, honey!" she laughed.

The other car tossed his hood rakishly and said dryly, "Well, I could hear absolutely everything you said in there. Did I miss something important on the calendar? Is this 'Annoy the Eldorado Patriarch' day?"

Cornelia giggled.

"Oh no, honey. Nothing like that. I was just telling our daughter about things."

"Right. Things that concerned me and my talent of kissing like a dead fish." he deadpanned.

Mary Ellen offered a non-concerned shrug and said, "Well, maybe we can call that payback for your insulting Cornelia's mate and the father of our granddaughter, Charles."

The forest-green car stared at nothing in particular before setting his jaw and answered, "Well, it sure worked."


	31. Chapter 31

31~

Cornelia was still quite worn out from her recent long trip so she retired to bed before her parents, but not before looking around her old room and thinking about how much things had changed. Not much had been altered in the space. True, she had taken the majority of her belongings with her when she had left home for good, but still a few little relics remained. On the north wall was a faded cutting she had saved from girlhood, taken from _The Daily Exhaust_ , August 10, 1952 edition:

 **HUD DOES IT AGAIN! TWO TIME PISTON CUP WINNER**

Directly below the triumphant headline was a black-and-white now turned sepia-brown photo of a strikingly handsome car she once had only dreamed of knowing. She knew the image and headline very well, for Hudson had his own copies of all the papers. She had seen them often, even before they had been stored and forgotten along with the legendary trophies in an unassuming old cabinet back home. The image still made her smile though, despite being from a part of her nearest and dearest companion's life that would never come back. It was a wistful and bittersweet sort of remembrance.

Before turning off the light, she looked at the old newspaper clipping one more time and recalled the nightly wish she so often had a number of years ago. Like any young girl with a crush, she had spent those minutes before falling asleep picturing herself with a future new last name, no matter how impossible it would seem to get it.

Cornelia Hornet...

The smile that made its way across her front this time was now even more genuine and sweet, for the wish was no longer false, but true.

 _Mrs._ Cornelia Hornet.

That was she. As she closed her eyes and sank contentedly to the floor all she wished for this time was for her husband to be beside her. Leaning up against his polished sides was such a comfort as was having her daughter on her other side. This made her realize anew that certain individuals could truly make one's world complete. How she missed them both already.

. . . .

The next morning Cornelia and her mother spent the vast majority of the day talking about this and that, and because Charles didn't want to hear any more personal affronts, he left the house for a few hours. Let women gab among themselves and not subject a man to it, was his personal belief. It was bad enough he had to sit there and dull his mind by watching that blasted soap opera with her last night. He had to take that other TV in soon to get fixed. He couldn't tolerate having to watch that garbage she liked. As far as he was concerned, that Cord was just a fop who thought he was better than he was and his accent sounded suspiciously fake to Charles. And can we even face the fact he had hideaway headlights?! What sort of insanity was that?! The old Cadillac thought that was a new low. At least he had headlights that were visible all the time and, ah-hem, _stylish_ ones at that with their big chrome housings.

Some women just don't appreciate a good thing.

As he cruised aimlessly to no particular destination down Main Street, well aware of some of the other females nearby giving him a double take, he wondered if taking a trip to Radiation Stinks would be a good idea after all. He sure wasn't enthralled about staying in a damn road cone, but seeing this ethereal Flo woman might be worth it. Maybe she could appreciate a fine piece of 1938 Cadillac.

Then again, she could be married.

To a Cord.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Back in Radiator Springs, things went along as smooth and normal as always, given Cornelia's absence. The whole town loved the pretty jade-green Cadillac and the kindliness she showed towards everyone. Needless to say, Grace found that 7 days were dragging on much too slowly.

On a particularly blustery day when she didn't want to linger around outside, she remained at home while her father was at work. Although she enjoyed being with him, she knew she just couldn't be all the time. So, she did the next best thing to entertain herself and read another racing magazine that Luigi had given her. It was mainly about the Italian circuit naturally, but she still enjoyed learning about the cars. None could ever be grander to her though than #51, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, a car with an astonishing career and mysterious disappearance.

Where exactly _did_ he and his wife go after that horrible crash?

She sat in the quiet room and read the magazine from beginning to end before she finally looked up again to the real world around her. In the corner lay a stack of her favorite magazines, and it was becoming a sizable stack at that. She knew that her mother would eventually desire her to move them before they became more in the way than they already were. Where to put them, though? The cabinets along the west wall were already lined with her father's collection of textbooks relating to his line of work, for he would periodically want to reread certain things. That was out.

She looked around and finally her eyes landed on the old cabinet in the far corner. Neither her mother nor her father had ever opened it, which likely meant it was either full already or just had some rarely used things in. It was a possibility there could be some room to store a few magazines, wasn't there? Before she moved her stack, she slowly drove over to investigate. A layer of dust seemed to coat every inch of the cabinet which told her it really hadn't been open in some time. Now curiosity moved her onward beyond just finding a place to keep her collection. What would her parents have that they would never retrieve from here? She knew this was being extremely impolite and nosy, but couldn't help herself. She eased forward, hooked the edge of the door on her front bumper and slowly nudged it open. When it opened, it blocked whatever light came through the near window, so after seeing the light close by, she clicked it on and then sat there in silent shock.

Stacks and stacks of pale yellow newspapers sat one on top of the other. One hung out at a crooked angle and she carefully tugged it forward. It fell with a soft _thump_ to the ground. Dust motes filled the air as they were loosed from the ground. The paper was an edition of _The Daily Exhaust_. The headline stunned her.

 **HUD DOES IT AGAIN! TWO TIME PISTON CUP WINNER**

Triumphantly the message was cried. Below the large, bold font was a photo of the car she had seen so many times in her saved racing magazines; the Fabulous Hudson Hornet who had vanished from that sporting world. She began to read the text.

 **PISTON CUP STAYS WITH HUDSON!  
** _It's another great day in the racing world, ladies and gentlemen! Number 51—the one and only Fabulous Hudson Hornet—has succeeded again at the latest race and secured a second win. He's shown us one more time just how good he is at living life in the fast lane. It's a boon for racing, no doubt about it. But his fans keep wanting more and more of this car. They're thrilled that their racer is the big automobile to beat…_

Grace looked up in confusion. She didn't know her father was a racing fan… he certainly had never told her he was. Why…? She returned to the article and eagerly read the rest. When she was done she backed up a few feet to gaze at the wealth of papers again, but then something else caught her eye. The drop light hanging nearby cast a glow into the shadows of the cabinet and made something on the second shelf sparkle. Well, that certainly couldn't be from a newspaper, could it?

She came forward again and rose as high as she could on her shocks to get a glimpse of what the metallic shine was. Oh, if only she could have the flexibility of the forklift who had to put these things here! It'd make this all so much easier. The metal thing was still obscured a bit by some papers nearby, so she gave these a hard nudge and when they slid away, her soft-blue eyes went wide.

She was looking at what she had only read about and seen in her magazines. This was the famous and coveted Piston Cup trophy; a very dusty one in need of polishing, but one all the same. Her mind spun the moment she realized there was not only one but _three_. And they all read the same name across their brass plates:

 **HUDSON HORNET – CHAMPION**

The only difference between them all was the dates.

1951.

1952.

1953.

But… oh, she was so perplexed. Hudson Hornet was her father's full name. Backing up, she glanced to the downed newspaper she had previously read and looked upon the photo.

And then it came together.

Her father wasn't a racing fan… her father was once a racecar.

. . . .

A few minutes later she burst through the doors of her father's office. Luckily, there were no patients within. "Is that you, Grace?" he asked from where he was occupied with some charts.

"Daddy…" she said, her voice coming out oddly cracked. This inflection alarmed him and he abandoned the things he had been examining. He turned slowly until he came to face a young Cadillac with confusion and apprehension in her soft-blue eyes.

"Why, what's wrong Grace?" he asked, coming up to her before stopping within a couple feet. She found herself inspecting him anew. Why hadn't she noticed it before? Despite being a young girl, she hadn't been blind to the deep scrapes and scratches along her father's entire body that couldn't be hidden entirely beneath their coat of indigo-blue paint. That had to have been from his crash and could never be entirely fixed. Yes, of _course_ they were. He wouldn't have had that from his slow and careful drives around town with her and her mother.

Hudson had no idea what had so struck his daughter and felt more helpless by the moment. "Grace, what is wrong? Tell me."

She drew her eyes upward to meet his own azure gaze. What she said loosened the older car's resolve even further.

"You're the Fabulous Hudson Hornet," she whispered.

The shock of those words made the indigo car pull back as if they were actually a physical slight. "What did you say?" he quietly asked. Had he heard her right?

"Daddy," she said, still feeling unsure. "You're the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, aren't you? You're the famous racecar."

"How do you know?" he asked. Suddenly the world had seemed to turn unpleasantly quiet. The world felt like it had _stopped_ , to be honest.

"I wanted to put my magazines in a better place. I saw that cabinet and thought it'd work. When I opened it, I saw the papers and the trophies. And I saw the name on them. And I knew." she softly replied.

Hudson didn't know what to say. This wasn't at all how he had thought this would go. And it was setting to take a turn for the worse.

Grace sat up straighter and in a tone of voice that was of her mother's strength asked, "Why didn't you tell me who you were? Why did you make me think all this time that my favorite racecar was a stranger? How could you?!"

He sighed. This had gone far worse than he ever could have imagined and he found himself regretting putting this important talk off again and again and again. Of course that wouldn't make it any easier. He met her eyes, a subtler mirror copy of his own.

"I did what I thought was best for you, Grace."

"How?!" she cried.

"By letting you have the joy you have had in your interest without having that weighted down by my truth. You have had your happiness learning about other racers who've had good careers and some that still race." he said quietly. "I didn't want you losing that joy because you'd be thinking too much about me."

"You're my father! Why shouldn't I care about you?!" she exclaimed. The glimmer of tears began to shine at the bottom rims of her eyes. "You made me think all this time that my favorite racecar was a stranger."

He didn't know how to answer her. The realization of everything was too much. Cornelia had been right. He should have never told untruths.

"You lied to me…" Grace sobbed, and this time the tears did fall. Hudson felt utterly helpless to console her, even though the sight of his daughter, his baby, so broken thoroughly broke him also. Without words to suffice, he went to do what felt only right in the form of giving her a comforting nuzzle. She had another thought coming for him though and struck out with a front tire, soundly hitting his side in the process.

"Leave me alone!" she choked and before he could hope to sway her, she made a swift turn and burst through the double doors into the dusk of evening.

Closing his eyes, Hudson sighed heavily and surrendered to the shame he felt that moment of being a poorly parent, letting his body sink on its suspension nearly all the way to the glossy tiled floor.


	32. Chapter 32

32~

Sick and tired of hearing his wife sermonize over her soap operas and not only decide to talk about them, but visually _share_ them with Cornelia the next day, Charles Eldorado decided he had enough. If he couldn't sit there and watch a nice round of soccer or golf, he was leaving for a few hours to find something interesting elsewhere, and as he slowly cruised down Main Street, he knew precisely where he was going to find it.

When out from his household the old Cadillac threw on all of the charm—around women, that is. He delighted in finding a good looking girl to whistle at and if they reacted with unexpected surprise, all the better. His final destination was The Chrome Cabaret, a fairly good establishment popular with the male population and also a few ladies as well who liked that sort of crowd. It was just the place for a fellow to go when his wife had fallen in love with some cheap actor in a soap opera.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Eldorado!" the club owner, another Cadillac, announced when the dark green and black car drove in.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. No 'Mister' foolishness. Just call me my name and don't shorten it to something cutesy like 'Charley' either. It drives me up the wall when the wife calls me that." he asserted.

"You got it, Charles." the proprietor acknowledged. "How's life back home?"

Charles pulled up to the bar, set his parking brake and answered, "Well, Mary Ellen is in love with this cheap-trick fool in _The Classy Cord_ , her all-time favorite soap, I don't have an inch of access to the TV and that same wife says I kiss like a dead fish. How do you think life is, Harlan?"

The silver Cadillac chuckled. "Sounds like it's pretty bad, friend."

"The best thing is that my daughter decided to pay a call. Haven't seen her since she hooked up with that racecar husband of hers."

"How's she doing?" he asked, setting the typically asked for beverage before the slightly older car.

"She's doing well. I still don't have stellar thoughts for that Hudson, but if he's treating her well, then I'll look past the fact he's not one of the most elegant, if not _the_ most elegant brand of American auto in existence." Charles and Harlan shared a conspiring look at this, given their shared Cadillac status. "She's also expecting her second child." he added.

"Really now? Well, congratulations to her. How's granddad-hood suiting ya, pal?" Harlan inquired.

Charles took a nonchalant sip of his drink and then answered, "I think I'm too young for that title."

"Someone else might think you are, too." Harland chuckled, and motioned with his hood to a striking turquoise-blue Plymouth who had just pulled in. Charles unabashedly looked her over.

"Now there's a fine piece of steel." he said under his breath, his gleaming chrome bumper curving into a pleased smirk.  
"That's Margot. She's a real doll. Unattached for the time being, though I doubt it'll be for long. She likes a rich looking guy." Harlan offered.

"Does she now?" Charles stated and watched with unconcealed pleasure as the beautiful car came over. When she looked up, the green-and-black Cadillac threw her a wink. "Well hello to you, baby. Aren't you a looker?" he said in a tone that was completely unlike his usual gruff demeanor at home.

She smiled flirtatiously at him and said, "You're Mr. Charles Eldorado, aren't you?"

He dipped down on his front axles in a showy sort of bow and answered, "The one and the only, my dear, but I ask you to leave off formalities. Just call me Charles."

"A pleasure to meet you; I'm Margot. I've heard a lot about you."

"About _me_? Now what could possibly be said about me for you to know?" he played.

She casually rolled her eyes and answered, "Why don't you try the oft-heard tale about what a handsome and _very_ stylish car you are?"

His grin broadened. "Well, that's a whole lot better than what I've heard from _other_ sources. They say I kiss like a dead fish." he said with the sort of laugh that brushed it off.

"Really? Hmm, you sure don't look like it. You look like the kind of man who'd treat a girl first-rate." she purred, and pulled close to land not-so-subtly into his side. Always willing to accommodate an interested girl, Charles tilted slightly to his other side to allow her maximum comfort. Margot looked up at him and purred, "You look like a _real_ man."

The old Cadillac could scarcely believe everything he was hearing. Why, it had been close to forever since Mary Ellen had even given him the time of day. Seldom had she given him anything more interesting than just a simple kiss on the side of one front fender or the other, as his own dead-fish kiss was apparently too revolting for anything else. Apparently she couldn't picture anyone else aside from that blasted Cord in her daydreams.

"You intrigue me, baby." he said to Margot. "You make an old fella like me think he's still got it."

She gave him an amorous look and murmured, "Who says you ever lost it, Mr. Eldorado?"

His first response was to remind her to leave out the formalities, but he could see she was using the title in a flirting fashion and that was acceptable. Her delightful womanly ways were even more acceptable. He bestowed her with another wink and answered, "Well, I guess you have a point. I never suspected I'd get myself a date this fine day with such a fine gal."

Harlan looked on with interest from the far end of the bar. He knew that Charles enjoyed playing the field despite his status, but it always fascinated him with how far the older car would go.

Margot smiled invitingly. "Oh, I have a mind to be a bit more than just a date, you big, handsome guy." she purred.

If a car had something akin to being a brow, Charles's was raised. "Big and handsome guy. I'm liking how you're talking, sugar." he said approvingly.

"If you want to cooperate, you might like what you'll see a whole lot more. I happen to be extremely interested in knowing how a dead fish kisses." she murmured.

. . . .

Across the state border in Radiator Springs, Hudson was faced with a daughter who had been steadfastly chilly in attitude towards him since she had found out he had lied about who he really was, and he couldn't regret his bad decisions enough for what it had done to her. The young Cadillac still kept a fairly cheerful outlook towards Flo and her customers, but when she was faced with her father, a mostly silent wall.

What Hudson didn't realize was that although Grace was understandably upset, maintaining a cross attitude towards her father became difficult as time went on. After all, he _was_ once the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, one of the world's greatest racecars. All she had ever known about him was what had been garnered from dry magazine and newspaper articles. She had a desire to learn more in person, from someone whose inflections would lend every emotion one could only suppose in the written word. She wanted to _hear_ how his life was and _hear_ how his devastating crash ended his career. Being cross at him wouldn't offer her any of that. Finally, on the second day after her learning the shocking news, she decided to bite the proverbial bullet.

She had stayed as far away from her father as possible since the news, but when he came home from work that evening she went out to greet him. "I missed you today, Daddy." she said.

He was taken aback, firstly because she wasn't at the V8 Café and secondly because she had decided to come to him after being so distant since hearing the truth. How glad he was to see her behaving more like her average self though. "I missed you also, Grace." he replied with a gentle smile.

The young Cadillac came forward and snuggled against his front fender with affection that wasn't an act but was real. He instinctually returned the gesture. "I'm so sorry about keeping things from you, honey." he told her.

She looked up at him and tried on a smile. "Well, now that I know, I want to talk to you about it."

"I'll do my best to answer anything you want to know." he promised.

At twilight she sat with him and asked the questions about a life she only knew in printed word; a life before her, and even though it was slightly awkward to hear things about one's parents in their earliest days, she found the story to be decidedly sweet.

"Your mother is the one who approached me first. She'd been a fan since my very first race in 1951 and never lost her interest. In '53 when I won my third Piston Cup, she persuaded one of the high-ups to allow her to come and congratulate me in person. I knew she was something special from the moment she said hello." he said.

"How?" Grace inquired.

He smiled wistfully and answered, "One day when you find someone to love, you'll know. It's not something that can be easily described. It's just a feeling. If I had to word it though, I'd say what made her outstanding was the fact she wasn't like the others who had tried to win me over. Yes, I know this is strange for you to hear me tell you about other ladies that tried to court me, but unfortunately in my career, it was something that happened. I was high-profile. Your mother wasn't like those others though, not at all. She was sweet and respecting and didn't flaunt anything. That all made her stand out to me.

"I figured I'd only see her once and resigned myself to that, but I didn't, of course." he said. He and Grace shared a smile.

"She came again and I made sure the officials knew she was welcome anytime and that she didn't have to ask permission. I was being presumptuous, I guess, figuring I'd see her a third time, but after all, third time's the charm.

"I fell for her earlier on than I let show, but I was absolutely struck by her ways. Had I been a touch more brazen, I likely would have asked her to marry me before she returned home, but I knew that wasn't good manners and might scare her off. After all, we still had a lot about each other to know. She stayed for as long as she could and then returned home. I figured I'd never see her again, though I admit I thought about her more than once during my training for the upcoming races.

"Your mother's family, mainly her father, don't seem to hold a racecar high in regards, especially for a girl to like. He didn't like your mother's interests and both his wife and he wanted her to marry someone else in town. She didn't want to though, and finally she moved out to start a life on her own somewhere else. She ended up in Thomasville, where my races were held. When I saw her again, I thought fate must be a real thing after all. I decided not to be hesitant any longer over what I wanted most, and when the time came we met again the future days evolved into our dates, although if I remember right, we never really called them that. It was simply going out for drives to places 'round town.

"Finally, I decided to take the plunge. I took her to the racetrack one day when it was empty; racing season had ended. I hoped for the best and expected the worst when I asked her to marry me."

"But the best happened." Grace stated, her eyes showing her interest in the tale.

"You're right, it did."

"What about your… crash?" she hesitated.

He sighed, knowing this would surface eventually. "That was the worst part of my life. When I knew something went wrong and there was nothing I could do to stop it… I can't even describe such a feeling. It's terrifying…"

"Is it true something messed up in your engine?"

"It's true. Something happened." he admitted. "But what happened, despite the end it brought me, was made easier to bear because of your mother."

"How?"

"The crash wrecked me a good deal, but I guess you know that already from what you've read. I had dents and scrapes every which way, and my axles were broken. I was at the mercy of the professionals for much too long. I felt lower than I've ever before or since, but your mother brightened those dark moments. She visited me most every Sunday to continue our since-married tradition of the weekend drive, although I wasn't able to drive. My front axle stayed afflicted for awhile because of the weight of my engine made repairs difficult."

"Did it hurt…?" she asked with a child-like concern that belied her maturing age, eyes wide.

"It did hurt, a lot. But, I think my whole frame hurt so much from everything I couldn't really pick one pain over the other."

"Oh Daddy…" she murmured, and leaned in to nuzzle him.

"I'm alright now, honey. Don't worry about me." he consoled. "I still have a lot of scratches underneath my paint, but not everything can be fixed. They're there to remind me always of that life and one reason why I never went back."

"And the other reason…" she hesitated. "Was it true what they said?"

The indigo-blue car sighed and answered, "It is all true, honey. They told me that I was history."


	33. Chapter 33

33~

While Mary Ellen shared the afternoon soaps with her admittedly disinterested daughter, Charles Eldorado had gotten a whole lot more than he'd hoped for in terms of distraction from his passé marriage across town. Within the four walls of an unnumbered room in an unnamed local, the green-and-black Cadillac drove in careful and deliberate rings about the vivacious Margot whose words delighted him more by every minute, it seemed.

"I sure am glad I stopped into the Cabaret today. Hoped I'd eventually get a look at the infamous Charles Eldorado." she purred.

"You like what you're looking at now that that time has come, sugar?" he asked, leaning his long frame her direction just so she could see it in all of its gleaming, polished splendor.

"I certainly do. You're a sight for sore eyes."

He made another measured loop around her. "Well, that's a sweet thing for a sweet girl to say about some old car like me."

She held out a front tire in his path to stop him, which he did with calculated grace unexpected for an auto his size. She then smirked at him. "You look like a delightful old car; so delightful that I really have serious doubts about you kissing like a dead fish."

He returned the smirk, thoroughly enjoying this game. "You interested in finding out?"

She lowered the rims of her eyes and said in a husky voice, "I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Eldorado."

Margot herself didn't have to beg or plead. The big Cadillac leaned in and gave that kiss his all, the weight of obvious desire intense in a way Mary Ellen hadn't been interested in since that damned Cord came into her life via a glass screen controlled by glass tubes. Even Margot got more than she estimated. When they parted, Charles winked. "You positively inflame me, sugar. Congratulate your pretty self on enthralling a Cadillac."

"You don't kiss like a dead fish at all." she stated, satisfied.

"You sure?" he asked waggishly.

"Kiss me twice and then I'll tell you." Her smile was playful. He took that as more than enough of an invite, and their chrome front bumpers met for the second instance in less time than it took for the clock to count off ten minutes.

"You kiss like a Casanova." Margot concluded, even more pleased than before.

"How you can flatter this old Cadillac!" Charles exclaimed.

Margot threw him a wink this time which said plenty. He knew precisely what to answer with. "How far does a lady like you want to venture?" he asked, tilting in a pose that flattered and showed off his long, polished body in perfect form. He knew how to show himself the most inviting ways possible and knew how it could work on an admirer.

The Plymouth feigned a moment of thought, but both knew it was a ruse. With her gaze deeply fixed on his, she said in a low and thrilling tone, "I think I might like a drive all the way to Victory Town."

Charles's front bumper curved into a pleased smile. "I think that can be arranged, baby."

. . . .

When her favorite afternoon soaps went off the air, Mary Ellen just chatted about random things with her daughter, who was glad to be away from the TV. She never understood her parents' fascination with the box; she'd much rather read or listen to the radio.

"By the way, Mom, where did Dad go?" she asked when a lull fell in their conversing.

Mary Ellen brushed it off. "Oh, he could be anywhere and everywhere, honey. He likes to go down to The Chrome Cabaret—that club—and visit his guy friends. He'll be back at supper or sometime this evening."

Cornelia nodded. "I wish he would realize how wonderful Hudson is. I know that neither of you really liked the idea of him being a racecar."

"Well, it's just not really the sort of sport I'd imagine most other young ladies liking. It's fast paced, rough and competitive." Mary Ellen answered.

"But that also makes it thrilling, Mom, especially when your husband was one of those cars who were competing. I wish you or Dad had gone to just _one_ of his races. He was so good, he had such skill. It made my heart fill with pride to watch him." Cornelia said, smiling in a way that showed she wasn't seeing her mother and the room around her. Within her mind's eye, she saw the track at Thomasville and the only car she'd ever love ruling it as if it were made especially for him.

"He may have had skill, honey, but he _did_ crash." Mary Ellen said, bringing her daughter out of her dream.

"It wasn't his fault," Cornelia said, in instant defense of her mate and her offspring's' father. "Something happened in his engine. He had no control over what happened."

Mary Ellen shrugged and said, "I can understand that, but if he hadn't had such a daring job in the first place, it wouldn't have happened."

"Nor would I have met him."

The yellow Cadillac was beaten. "Alright, I give. You love him, he loves you. That's all that matters."

"Yes it is. He makes me feel complete." she retorted before eventually giving up her act and lowering her tired chassis to the ground until her undercarriage brushed the floor. "More like completely tired right now." she added with a chuckle.

Mary Ellen turned all business. "If you feel this way now and didn't when you were expecting Gracie, I stand by what I said earlier. You're probably having twins. It's rare but not impossible."

"Oh Mom," Cornelia said, rebuffing the words.

"Honey, I mean it. Here, let me get a good look at you." she said and before her daughter could interfere, came around and slowly inspected her every angle for anything telling. She clucked her tongue as she came around her other side and said, "Oh, Cornelia…"

"What?"

"That racecar has done such a number on you…" her mother sighed.

"I don't follow, Mom."

Mary Ellen shook her hood slowly and replied, "Your pretty green paint is a bit… _scuffed_ …back here." The yellow Cadillac looked closer at her daughter. "It's not just scuffed, it's _scratched!_ " she wailed.

Cornelia simply shrugged. Her mother had a small fit. "How can you be so passé, darling?! He scraped up your paint!"

The jade-green Cadillac shrugged one more time. When her mother came around to face her Cornelia offered, "He's as careful as he can be, Mom. He's not going to scratch my paint on purpose. He feels bad about it, if you want to know the truth."

Mary Ellen sighed. "You'll have to get a touch up. You're too pretty a girl to be having uneven paint."

"I'll consider it. Right now, I'm not worried about it. All I'm concerned about is doing the best I can for the babies that were the result of the scratched paint."

Her mother brightened. "Oh, you're talking in plurals. That must mean you believe the twin theory after all!"

"All I _do_ know right now is that I want to take a nap!" she proclaimed.

"Well, go ahead honey. I'll wake you when _The Classy Cord_ comes on later."

"Don't worry about that." Cornelia practically begged as she slowly rose up to her average height. "You can tell me about it if you want, but I'd like to sleep for now."

"Alright sweetie," Mary Ellen called out as her daughter retreated to her room. Once in, she shut the door, pulled the drapes and savored the darkness. Only a small shaft of light came through the edges of the curtains, enough to cast a ray of light onto the faded _Daily Exhaust_ clipping. Cornelia looked at it again and a smile slowly curved her front bumper.

"'Hud Does it Again,'" she read quietly from the sepia tinted page. As she sank slowly down on her shocks she murmured, "If my mom's crazy suspicion is right and I _am_ having twins, you certainly 'did it again' in more ways than one, Hud."

Her eyes slipped close and she relaxed further in the shadowed room. Her final words before drifting off to sleep were accepting and of a loving tone.

"If that _is_ true, I won't hold that against you, darling. Not even that scuffed paint."

. . . .

Charles Eldorado had made a decent score with the vivacious Margot and wasn't going to fall off of Cloud 9 anytime soon. What seemed to add the most spice was after they engaged in a bit further sort of "tête-à-tête" (you imagine the rest); her bright eyes went wide as she looked over the big Cadillac.

"Ohhh, I didn't realize." she giggled.

"Realize what, sugar?" he asked. She could have said there was a grasshopper stuck in his grille and would have been just as calm about it.

She motioned towards his left front tire and the gold beauty-ring that encircled the hubcap. "You're…married." she laughed in way that sounded nervous though wasn't at all.

"That I am, baby doll." Charles answered with a smirk. "I am one-hundred percent tied by wedded law."

"But you get untied from that every so often." she pointed out.

He nodded his long hood in agreement. "I do, it happens."

"Are you… satisfied… being married?" she asked. He shrugged casually.

"It works in its own way. The wife is in love with some fool on a TV show and compares him and me together. But, I'm not here to talk about that. What I want to say," he began, and dipped over to her and offered her a ravishing smile. "What I want to say is what you and I just indulged in was significantly more satisfying than what's been on my platter for awhile. A fella gets tired of a boring kiss on the fender and nothing else after a fashion.

"You poor boy," she sighed, happening to just bat her eyes at him at the same time, either accidentally or entirely on purpose. Both had a good feeling of which of the two it was.

"Well, I sure wasn't poor tonight, thanks to you." he reassured with charm.

"My pleasure," she laughed and cuddled up against his velvet-black fender. Charles gladly indulged her, despite knowing sooner than later he'd have to part ways with this delightful tart. She brought the matter up first.

"So, what are you doing after this, big guy?" she asked.

He shifted on his axles. "Well, let me think…I'll probably stop in at the Cabaret and finish my drink—or more likely Harlan will get me a new one—and then I'll head on home. The moment I crank over my motor, baby, I leave my paramour ways at the door and drive out as the married man I am. But not before one important thing."

"I wonder if I can guess," she murmured, thoughtful.

"Make sure you get my number and remember it. As many times as my wife goes gaga over the soaps, I'll need a bit of fun to look forward to." he answered, winking at the word 'fun.'

"Ooo, I'll be glad to provide." she promised.

"That's what I like to hear."

She pushed off of his side and slowly went around him to inspect his black license plate. "Memorize that good, sugar." he advised. She gazed at the seven digits for a couple more seconds before replying, "I think I got it, but if not, you're pretty easy to recognize."

"As are you," he agreed when she came to face him again. "Now, be a darling and let an old fella have one more kiss before he goes." She smiled and did just that, giving him one that thrilled leagues beyond the dreary fender kiss his wife gave. When they finally parted ways for good Charles smiled evenly and said, "Thanks for the pleasure, baby. Looking forward to seeing you around."

"I can only say the same." she purred, giving him a last nuzzle before he turned over an engine that ran with pure Cadillac smoothness, sounding as rich as he looked. "Oh, by the way…" he started as he took his motor out of park and slowly eased forward. "Someone told me when it came to romance I was a one-trick pony."

Margot winked. "You're anything but, Mr. Eldorado."

. . .

Charles dropped his infidel act as soon as he left, just as promised and drove back to The Chrome Cabaret seemingly like the ill-tempered gruff fellow he normally was. Harlan looked up the moment he drove in, but then again, a few other folk did also. The Cadillac seemed to have a larger than life persona that just warranted it.

"Thought you'd never come back." Harlan said, chuckling.

"Well, you underestimated me. I need something strong to get me through watching those damned soaps with my wife tonight because although I'd like to hope she'd be good enough to let me watch a few rounds of golf, I doubt it'll happen." Charles said, curt. Harlan provided a beverage before he could even turn his motor off. "Thanks plenty."

"Always a pleasure, Charles. So, how'd things go with little Miss Margot?" the tender asked, leaning in towards his customer and friend.

Charles smiled fondly at this subject. "She's one luscious tomato," he said. Harlan caught the additional message in the Cadillac's amber eyes.

"I figured it must have gone pretty well. After all, you look like you drove to Cloud 9 and friend, there's something else maybe you should know…"

"Tell all,"

Harlan lowered his voice and said through his smirk, "You absolutely reek of perfume. May want to do something about that before you go on home. Don't want Mary Ellen questioning her _faithful_ husband." Charles rolled his eyes.

"As if she'll even notice me."

Harlan laughed. "Well, that's true. So, how far did you go with the luscious tomato?"

Now Charles was the one to smirk. "All the way, pal. _All_ the way. Haven't had that chance in longer than I care to recall."

"No wonder you look the way you do."

"That gal puts the shine in my chrome, I'll tell you. I made sure she got my number, because I sure wouldn't mind seeing her again." the forest-green Cadillac said with a satisfied nod.

"I doubt she'll mind either. Did she figure out you were married?" Harlan asked.

"Oh yes." Charles gladly told. "That added a particularly interesting element."

After the older Cadillac finished his appropriately strong drink, he bid farewell to his friend and once he was outside in a breeze that had picked up since earlier, he noticed what Harlan had said was true. He positively radiated whatever cologne that jezebel had been wearing. Well, he didn't mind a little reminder of a thrilling foray, but this was admittedly a bit too much and not only would possibly arouse Mary Ellen's suspicions but possibly his daughter's as well, and _that_ was a thought he couldn't bear. Despite being an infidel and engaging in a fair many affairs, Charles still cared greatly for his daughter, even if she did love a racecar.

He'd have to stop by the foreign-run carwash on the way home and have that shifty forklift give him a hose down.


	34. Chapter 34

34~

Cornelia found that the visit with her parents went much smoother than she ever could have imagined it would have, and despite her father having a load of opinions on any given subject, he maintained the standard of having a bark that was worse than his bite. Somehow or another he had become more even-keeled. Cornelia believed the fact Hudson was no longer a racecar had a lot to do with it. Whatever reasoning though, she was grateful to have a nice time with her parents. No matter this, she found she deeply missed Grace—not to mention Hudson as well—a very fair deal and gladly prepared to leave on her last day.

"We're very sorry to see you go, but understand where you're coming from." Mary Ellen said to her daughter on the noon of her departure.

Cornelia smiled softly. "Now I know how it feels to be a parent away from her child! I know Grace is well taken care of, but I still worry about how she is."

"That's only natural, honey." her mother soothed. "I'm sure she misses you to pieces also. She'll be excited to see you back."

"I miss her joyful smile already!"

Mary Ellen gave a understanding nod of her yellow hood and sighed. "Well, you'd best get a move on, darling. We wouldn't want to hold you."

Charles came forth and stated, "We've decided we will come see you and the kids around June, if that works out for you."

Cornelia, shocked, met her father's eyes. "That would be wonderful, Dad! I'd be so happy to have you visit!"

"Same, same," he answered. "I kind of want to meet that Flo lady, too. She sounds like an Aphrodite."

Cornelia couldn't help but laugh. "She's married, Dad."

"Oh,"

"And you're also married, Charley." Mary Ellen reminded, giving his near fender a shove. He glared.

"Charles, dear, Cornelia told me that Flo is an ex-Motorama show girl and—"

"She is Aphrodite herself, then!"

"—she wouldn't be interested in an old man."

"Well, thanks for nothing!" the forest-green car griped. His wife gave his black fender a light kiss and consoled, "But you're my old man, and all we'd ever want."

Cornelia came forth, kissing her father in the same fashion on the opposite side. "No matter all that, I'd love for you to visit."

"We'll do it," he promised.

"Certainly. On, how I wish you didn't have to go, but it's best if you start on your way, honey. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be home." Mary Ellen surrendered. The jade-green Cadillac came 'round to kiss her mother farewell before turning over his engine. "I love you both; thanks for such a nice visit." she said with her typical smile.

"We're glad you came! Love to you also!" her mother replied.

"Drive safely. Those clouds might bring rain today or tomorrow, so be careful on the road." Charles warned.

"I never drive fast and crazy, Dad." she assured.

"That racecar of yours hasn't influenced you?" he asked, but with a humored smile.

"No Dad, not yet." his daughter replied, returning the smile. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, honey."

A few last words were exchanged, a few gestures of affection, and then Cornelia departed for her drive back home. Each mile that passed beneath her white-wall tires brought her another mile closer to her family at the base of the aptly named Cadillac Range.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

IN Radiator Springs, Grace Hornet was thrilled that the week was ending of her mother's vacation and she'd be back on the following day. It had felt like forever since she'd seen her! She became thankful that she had stopped being cold towards her father, for his stories filled those hours when she'd be otherwise too occupied wishing for her mother's return to come even sooner.

She learned about a time that preceded her, a particularly sweet time based on the love two cars grew to have for each other and a love that had never faded.

"The racing circuit may have gave up on me, but your mother never did." the sleek blue car told his daughter with a warm smile. "And how glad I am that she didn't. It was actually her idea to move out here, too. I saw the town once, back when I got repainted."

"Did Ramone repaint you?" she asked.

"Yes he did."

Suddenly the young Cadillac had a recollection from when she was smaller. "Ramone told me he once repainted a racecar and he said he looked like you. That must have been you, Daddy." she gasped.

"It was, honey." he said, nodding his indigo hood.

She sat there with him for a long time before becoming to a conclusion. "Daddy…" she began. "Are you ashamed of what you were? Is that why you keep all of those things from your past, the papers and trophies especially, in the dark?"

"That's a tough question, Grace…"

"If you hadn't been what you were, you wouldn't have met Mama and if you hadn't, I wouldn't be her either. So…"

"Yes?"

"I think you should put your trophies out again. They're just so dusty, but if they were cleaned up, they'd be pretty and shiny. It was because of your job that Mama found you. You shouldn't be ashamed of that." the girl said.

Hudson considered her words for a beat. When he met his daughter's pretty soft-blue eyes he said, "You're as wise as your mother, Grace."

"Will you consider it?" she asked.

"I will." he promised, and meant every word. After all, what she had said was pure truth.

. . . .

Cornelia drove almost the whole day before checking into the Thunderbird Motel once more to get a good night's rest. Now she only a handful of hours from Radiator Springs, home, and her beloved family. That very vision nearly prevented her from sleeping decently. It had felt like years since she'd last seen them instead of just a mere week. She promised herself that night that she'd never go on a trip again without including everybody. It just wasn't nearly as wonderful minus those she treasured.

She awoke to a sky streaked dark with clouds and a road full of puddles from some drizzle in the middle of the night. The rain was one of her favorite things though, and while other travelers may have been displeased at "inclement" weather, she delighted in the drive. How crisp and clean and wonderful the air felt. How truly invigorating in way to match her energized mood!

All day she drove in and out of patches of sunshine and small showers. It seemed as if it'd follow her all the way home. That would certainly be delightful. Mid-afternoon she stopped at a filling station for a rest and something to eat before pulling out onto the glossy blacktop once more to finish her westward journey. Even though she knew she was still a ways off, her eyes still inspected the horizon for the unmistakable geography of the Tailfin Pass that marked the beautiful Ornament Valley.

The road was mostly unoccupied until the two young sports cars joined Cornelia. One was a Porsche and the other was a Bentley. They were young, they were smug, and they thought they might find themselves a bit of fun upon encountering the lone Cadillac cruising at a ridiculously slow speed. The Porsche apprehended her first as he pulled into the opposite lane alongside her.

"Well, if it isn't an American car of the luxury brand." he said in a voice that dripped with something Cornelia couldn't name, but instantly didn't like. She quickly glanced over at the car with eyes as silver as his paint.

"Oh, hello there!" she said, trying to be pleasant. The Porsche ignored her greeting.

"How fast can an American _luxury_ car go?" he asked.

"We can go to a hundred-and-twenty." she complied in answer.

"Well, that means you can go the speed limit!" he shouted, and on cue the Bentley cruised forward and gave the Cadillac a rough shove from behind. She cried out in alarm and quickly fought to correct her steering.

The Porsche was unaffected by the show and continued lecturing her. "You see, speed limit signs are put in place for a reason. Going below that, _way_ below that is unfair to other drivers."

"You can go around me!" she exclaimed.

"I'd much rather follow someone who does what the law says they're supposed to do. If you can go that fast, then DO IT!" he yelled at her. Fear now hammered through her engine and she prayed fervently for someone, _anyone_ else to come along and break up this encounter.

"Please leave me alone!" she begged.

"No plans of that until you stop being such a laggard. There's no telling how many other motorists you'll impede with such self-centered behavior." he growled at her.

Her focus was broken up by these thugs and just barely did she evade drifting into the ditch along the side of the road. As if to make sure she wouldn't, the Bentley kept her in check from behind but not in a caring way. She knew all it would take would be for her to drop speed another notch before he'd ram into her again.

The Porsche smiled in a rapacious way at the Cadillac. "I think we should have ourselves a little race. See if an American car like you can really manage that hundred-twenty speed."

"I _can't_ go that fast!" she cried.

"Who says you can't? Is there something wrong with you after all?" he asked, sneering still.

" _IT'S TOO DANGEROUS!_ "

"If you were made to go that fast, then that means you can do it. Now, _do it_ before I find a cliff to run you off of. If you don't think I'll do that, you're dead wrong."

Cornelia had never felt more terrified in her life. She looked before her and in her mirror to what lay behind her. No one else was on the road. No one was there to intercept and stop what was happening. There were no exits up ahead… a place to lose these two who frightened her more by the second. All there was was wide-open desert.

No place to lose herself.

She had to go faster, not to appease them, but to hopefully find someone who lay up ahead that could possibly help her. That had to happen. She wasn't the only one on the entire highway. With that thought in mind, she accelerated her motor and in a slow and steady crawl, her speedometer inched forward.

Past 40.

Up to 50.

Past 50.

Nearing 60.

The autumnal wind rushed past as she cut through it like a bullet.

75.

The dangers were apparent to her, but she had to outrun her chasers. Of course she could do it. Of course. Thunder crackled overhead from the heavy storm clouds. Lightning danced over the distant mountain range.

85.

The world went past her in a blur. She couldn't remember when, if ever, she had driven this fast. It was so much harder to maintain control and she focused intently on the road before her and nothing else.

90.

In the very close stretch of blacktop before her, likely no more than a mile, laid a dip in the road. She remembered that from her departure now. It was too near now though for her to safely stop. She had to hope that she could cross it and be okay.

The road began angling down. She was on the crest of the dip. She wanted to close her eyes but knew she couldn't. As she came upon it she faced it boldly but was left with a sight that tore from her a scream. The rain, the rain she had loved so much had filled the dip with a dangerously wide and deep puddle. What would happen after she hit it, she knew all too well.

She hit the puddle with a deafening crash and the thrown water arched up over a dozen feet in the air. She automatically wanted to try to slow down, but now there was no chance of that happening. Her tires and her brakes were slickened with the water. This, her speed and her compromised vision after being doused by the rainfall combined made her lose control of her driving. She could not correct her steering. When she made the mistake of slamming on her brakes with all of her power, the world turned upside down.

Before she could even scream, she spun out of control. Her frame flew through the air, hit the ground with a sickening crash and rolled and fell again and again and again. With each impact, dents and scratches compounded onto the others that already outfitted her breaking body. Bits of her chrome trim snapped off and left a gleaming trail behind her. Her headlights and tail-lights shattered to abandon behind her a hellish red and clear-glass glitter. Flecks of jade-green paint settled into the pavement. From beneath her was heard the sound of an axle breaking as she crashed into the ground one more time. Finally, when the powers that be decided she had suffered enough, she fell to a halt after rolling more than six times.

She was in too much pain to form words. All she could do was sob. Tears slipped down her smashed hood, not rolling off the end, but settling in the many hollows knocked into it. Paint was scraped off in cruel patterns throughout her entire body. There were too many dents along it to count. On one side, her entire chrome trim had been ripped off. Her stance canted to the left, her wrecked axle the cause.

But the pain was worse than anything. She could scarcely draw a breath, even if she hadn't felt so weak to take a deep one. When she coughed, the burning pain it wrought through her was strictly unbearable. She ignored the slick of oil on her teeth. Something in her was broken causing it, but she didn't care what. Steam from her shattered radiator poured from her hood and through her crumpled grille. But from the end of that hood, defying everything stood a slightly crooked gold-plated ornament that managed to catch the only ray of sun that beamed through the thunderclouds. It was the only gleaming thing in Cornelia Hornet's private darkness.


	35. Chapter 35

35~

"I just got word that there was a bad accident around 10 miles out from here. Be alert and ready."

Hudson nodded in understanding to the black-and-white Mercury who had just given him the news. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll be ready." he promised.

"I'm going on out there now with Mater; should be back within the hour. Sounds like a pretty bad event. If I were you, I'd keep Grace over at Flo's until the victim comes in and is stabilized. Things like this can traumatize the kids." the police car warned.

"I will make sure she doesn't see anything. I appreciate the concern." Hudson answered.

"See you later." Sheriff said and then pulled away from the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic towards the direction out of town. Hudson watched the police car and the tow truck retreating for a minute or two before returning to his office to get things set up for the trauma victim. Road accidents were his least favorite to see, and he was thankful they happened once in a blue moon. They resulted mostly from speedsters showing off and not watching where they were going.

Thank goodness Cornelia was so careful, he thought.

Grace was already over at the V8 Café helping Flo, so when he was done at the clinic he went over and spoke with the mint-green car about the upcoming events. "I want her to stay with you just until things are tied up. I'd hate for her to come into the office and see something that would frighten her. Accidents are never pretty." he told her.

"I understand that, honey. I'll keep a good eye on her and make sure she stays busy here." Flo assured.

"It'll be hard, because her mother is due home today and she's wanted to greet her. I don't know when she'll be coming though, so it's best to keep her eyes from wandering at every cost. I truly appreciate this, Flo."

"Spending time with your little girl gives me an extra piece of happiness in my day. You've no need to beg for me to watch over her, Hudson." she said, smiling warmly.

"Well, thank you either way." he offered.

"You are sho' welcome."

. . . .

Within a half hour, Sheriff and the tow truck Mater arrived at the scene. An old station wagon with a set of steer horns on his grille and a Texas accent had been keeping watch over the battered victim ever since he had come upon her; his brother had been the one to notify law enforcement of the accident. Sheriff inspected the damage with a professional eye, looking over something that the tow truck didn't.

"Sheriff! I think… no, I know! This here gal is someone we both know." he started, staring with widening eyes at the broken car. Aside from color, it seems anything identifying had been pulled from her. Even her plate must have been torn off in the crash. Mater didn't wait for Sheriff's acknowledgement or question.

"This here is Doc Hudson's girl! Look at her hood ornament!" he exclaimed. Sheriff excused himself from what the brothers were telling him and looked to where the tow truck motioned. Crowning a crumpled green hood was an unmistakable gold decoration. The recognition gripped him also, and knocked down the professional wall he had been forced to build around him. Mater was right.

He looked over the rest of the broken female car. Her eyes hadn't once opened since their arrival and only a flicker of movement from her shallow breaths told she was alive. But that ornament didn't lie. Neither did paint that could be described only as jade-green, despite the long and deep scratches that marred it. The police car met the eyes of the shaken tow truck briefly before looking back to the victim who now had a name so many knew so well. He said only one sentence that said it all.

"This'll break Hud's heart."

. . . .

Hudson continued occupying himself in his clinic, preparing the final paperwork that would be needed to make a file on the patient when a near funeral-like procession marked Mater and Sheriff's return to town. Flo caught sight of the broken Cadillac first, and rushed to shelter Grace from the view by giving her an order that didn't exist. She had to do everything she could to spare the girl from seeing the awaited return of her mother… a heartbreaking return devoid of joy.

Hudson was still scanning over some forms when the double doors to his office were eased open by Mater. "Uh, Doc… we, uh…. we got the injured." His voice was oddly hollow and didn't at all have the chipper streak as usual. But, if any accident didn't sober someone, they were heartless. Hudson didn't question it.

"Thank you, Mater. Please bring the patient in." he instructed, not yet looking up.

"Alright," he solemnly answered as he drove through and very carefully set her down. When Mater turned back around after doing so, Hudson happened to turn at the same time. His azure eyes were calm for only a moment and then they took on a light that not even a hillbilly truck would ever forget. The recognition in them was so painful to see, he had to look away.

Hudson's professionalism had no chance of being maintained now that he was faced with something worse than he ever could have imagined. He had no interest in putting on airs for something his heart couldn't match. He saw something horrible that only one with medical training could decipher. When he spoke, his voice lacked in strength. It was laced with a sorrow that couldn't be adequately described, although it was felt by whoever heard it.

"My poor, sweet, beautiful girl…"


	36. Chapter 36

36~

Cornelia was stabilized to the very best degree but after that there remained things even Hudson's skill couldn't fix, if anyone could fix them at all. She had remained beaten down and so silent ever since her arrival that he had surrendered to the possibility she very well may not speak at all. But then she shifted the slightest amount which prompted a grimace and a terrible, wracking cough. The unnatural slick of oil covered her teeth again and she coughed a final time to dispel it. Then her eyes opened, still so clear and beautifully green.

"Oh Hudson…" she bewailed. "It was so horrible! They, they—" Another deep cough attacked her. "They wouldn't leave me alone!" she cried. He slowly approached her and gave her a gently loving nuzzle.

"I heard from the sheriff, darling. I'm so sorry…" he softly replied. She leaned her fender up against his, reveling in such a gentle touch after her painful crash. So few words had to be spoken, as all they wanted was the reassuring comfort of the other's love and companionship. The only time it was broken was when Cornelia voice one request.

"Park next to me and let me lean against you, Hudson. Just like… just like I did before all of this." she begged.

He didn't have to be asked twice. As soon as he understood her wish, he slowly pulled around and came as close as he dared to her dented and scraped green side. Once he pulled level, she submitted fully to her broken axle and laid up against his polished blue flank. Despite the varied pain that haunted her every inch, she felt peaceful and consoled by the presence of her mate. Sighing wearily, she snuggled beside him the best she could and blinked the tears away that were filling her eyes.

"Loving you was the easiest thing I ever had to do, Hudson." she murmured before coughing once more. "Thank you for marrying me and making my dream of becoming Mrs. Hornet come true. Thank you for giving me the gift of being a mother also. You are a far better daddy than I know you ever thought you could be, even though…." she hesitated. He silently implored her with his solemn blue eyes. She blinked again and said barely above a whisper, "Even though what happened today means you're also going to always be a daddy that lost his other babies too… right?"

He didn't want to answer her, but her gaze was unwavering. "Yes, darling." he quietly answered her.

"It wasn't just one, was it…?" she pressed.

"No,"

"How many?" she asked, and even as she asked he could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Two."

Cornelia closed her eyes and pressed nearer to her husband. "My mom _was_ right. I'm so sorry," she murmured before giving in to her ragged heart and crying. Hudson was broken even further. He knew of nothing to say. All he could do was gently love her which spoke better than words could have anyway.

The sky had nearly faded to darkness before the Cadillac spoke again. "Hudson… I need to see our girl… the only baby we'll ever have. Please."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes I am sure. Please go get her for me, _please._ "

He gave her a kiss on the side of her fender and consoled, "You don't have to beg, darling. I'll do anything for you. Absolutely anything."

And he truly meant that. If at that moment she had asked him to get repainted into his racecar colors at Ramone's, he would have done it, so very gladly.

He found Grace at the V8 just like he imagined he would. Flo led him to her and the exchange in their eyes told that something serious was afoot. Fear instantly clamped down on the girl's heart and she couldn't even find her voice. She simply nodded at her father's request to join him. The ex-Motorama car gave the young Cadillac a comforting nuzzle before drawing back and letting her go. Grace did not speak a single word all the way back to the Mechanical Clinic. She feared something horrendous had happened to her mother. Why else wouldn't she have seen her come back on this day when she was supposed to return? She had asked Flo and even Sheriff for information, but both had been hesitant and unwilling. Now she would face the inevitable.

Hudson slowly drove through the white double-doors, his daughter shadowing him tandem. Before any words could be said, she saw her mother and a choked cry escaped her. And then came the storm.

"Mama, Mama! Oh, _Mama!_ " she cried in a way to wrench even the toughest heart.

"My baby… come here." Cornelia summoned. With eyes already blurred by tears, the young Cadillac came over and gently cuddled into the broken side of the older one. "Oh Mama!" she sobbed again.

With great effort Cornelia pulled herself as erect as her afflicted rear axle permitted. "Darling, darling…" she murmured, lightly nuzzling her daughter. "I need to tell you something."

Grace nodded silently, watching the shed tears roll down her seafoam-green hood. Cornelia did not speak until her daughter's eyes met hers. From a couple feet away Hudson watched, though did not maintain an act to be strong. He had sunk low on his shocks. Only an inch or two stopped his bottom trim from touching the floor.

"Gracie, honey… listen to me. I have been so lucky to have you in my life… I couldn't have picked a more wonderful daughter if I had the option. You and your father are the two halves to make my life whole." Before she could say more, a cough wracked her. When she recovered, she continued. "Did you father tell you who he once was, darling?" she asked.

Grace sadly nodded. Her mother nuzzled her softly. "Your interest in racing reminds me so much of how I was when I was younger. I read about your father in a magazine, same as you, and something happened that I never expected."

"You fell in love." she whispered.

"Yes I did, and I'm thankful I never lost hope on that love. If I had, I'd have never had you. My father—your grandfather—isn't much fond of the sport, but without it I'd never be where I got to. Never be afraid to fall in love with a racecar if he captures your heart and soul. Your father is the sweetest and most caring fellow I know. Always love him, darling. He will never disregard your happiness. You're going to stay the most important thing in the world to him."

Grace bit back another sob. "I thought... I thought you were that, too…"

Cornelia continued to gently nuzzle her daughter. "You will always be first. I won't… I won't be here for always." She coughed again. Hudson sadly noticed that the amount of oil leaking from what had broken within her hadn't lessened, but slowly grew.

"You're… you're going to die?" Grace wailed. "Daddy can't fix you?!"

"Shhh, be calm, honey. There are only so many things your father can fix. I'm too hurt for anybody to fix. But there's something I want you to know." When her green eyes met her daughter's blue, she softly said, "Even when I'm gone, I will never leave you. Love itself never dies. Neither do memories."

The girl sobbed as deeply as the canyon her sadness had carved. Cornelia kissed her softly. "I'll always love you, Gracie."

. . . .

After Hudson led his heartbroken daughter back home at his wife's instructions, he slowly drove back into the glaringly lit Mechanical Clinic, not expecting the final, bittersweet exchange with his wife.

"Darling, I'm not going anywhere until I have one last kiss. One of those kisses that still make me think you went to some school to learn how to be the true gentleman you are." she softly said. "But then I realized a school couldn't teach you even if it did exist. You're simply a wonderful and caring man who treated this girl like she was the most precious possession he had."

He slowly came to a stop before her. "You still are, honey." he tenderly answered. "You and Grace are both that. And you're the ones who made my life feel complete and finally worthwhile."

"We're even then." she murmured.

"Yes, we are." he quietly agreed.

"I love you so much, Hudson."

He looked within her spring-green gaze and said what automatically followed that. "I love you even more, Cornelia."  
And then he leaned in the remaining inches separating them till his straight grille met her crumpled one and his smooth bumper met her dented one. They still nestled against each other though despite this. It was a tender kiss they shared, steeped in sorrow and memories of the too-short marriage they had had. They both prayed hopelessly for five years more.

Hudson thought whoever said men don't cry should be thrown in impound the rest of their lives. If they have any heart and any feelings, they _will_ cry and the heartbroken ex-racecar did just that upon facing the truth he would lose his beloved mate by morning.


	37. Chapter 37

37~

 **ONE MONTH LATER**

A cloud of depression had descended over the remaining members of the Hornet family and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. Poor young Grace was lost without her mother. Hudson was lost without his wife. He couldn't acclimate to or accept the fact that he now a widower after 5 too short but beautiful years of marriage to the woman who had meant so much to him.

Always the caring soul, Flo took care of the girl the best she could. She was careful with her actions though, for she didn't want Grace to misinterpret her good intentions as "replacing" her mother. No one could ever hope to be like Cornelia had been. She was special and one of a kind. There was no aspiring to be like her. The ex-Motorama car also asked after the girl's father, knowing this wasn't at all easy on him either. The poor fellow had lost so much that day.

One afternoon she passed her work temporarily onto her husband at the Café under the intent to see Grace's father and ask if there was anything at all she could do for that family that she hadn't thought of already. She knew there was likely nothing, but wanted to remain hospitable and as open as she could.

The Mechanical Clinic was closed when she came up to it, but this hadn't been unusual since the passing of Cornelia. It had been shuttered sporadically for the past several weeks. Flo bypassed the locked front doors and went around to the back where the family resided. Slowly she came up the wooden doors and knocked twice before easing back a few inches. The doors opened within a couple minutes and she gazed upon the indigo-blue Hudson Hornet who had looked permanently beaten down since the horror. Always had he appeared his best around his beloved wife but now she saw a thin layer of dust dulling the shine of his paint.

"Good afternoon, Flo." he greeted without any cheer to befit the words.

"Hello Hudson," she said. "I was wonderin' how you were holding up."

He slowly reversed in a silent gesture to allow her into the humble residence. She nodded in thanks and drove into the softly lit room. When the doors pulled shut again, the sleek blue car heavily sighed and answered, "If you want the truth, I'm not doing well."

Flo turned around to face him and replied as she met his shadowed azure eyes, "I just feel so bad for what happened, for you and for poor Grace. It sho' wasn't fair. It was a crime, is what it was."

He simply nodded.

"Is there anything at all I can do for you that I haven't thought of?" the mint-green car softly asked.

Hudson finally met her gaze fully. "No… I can't think of anything at this moment. I am indebted to you though for what you've done for my daughter. You mean so much to her. You can provide for her the care I can't."

"Don't mention it, Hudson. Your baby girl is a delight to me. I'm glad to care for her, though no one can ever do it like her mama did. Your Cornelia was a sweetheart."

"She meant more than I can say…" he sighed.

Flo looked down to her hood and then back up again. "I know I've said that I'm sorry a hundred times already but I feel like I should say it a thousand times more. To lose her and those li'l babies you two were expecting calls for something even stronger than a simple 'I'm sorry.'"

"That's all that can be said."

"It still doesn't seem like enough…" she said, sighing herself in turn.

"Your goodness has said more than words can. You were born with a wonderfully caring heart, Flo. It's a comfort to know you. Thank you a hundred times for being so sweet to my girl. To see happiness in her eyes, if only for a few seconds, gives me the hope this will someday not be so hard to bear." he quietly said.

Before the mint-green car had the chance to gather her thoughts into a suitable response, Hudson leaned over to softly kiss the side of her fender. Flo would always remember it as the most heart wrenching kiss she had ever experienced. The sadness behind it was painfully obvious for the couple seconds it lingered. After parting he settled down low on his shocks again and gave the ex-Motorama car a weak smile that took too much effort to procure such a wan result.

"Don't concern yourself over me. For all you've done for my Gracie and for all that you've loved her, thank you."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

ACROSS the state borders in a clapboard home sat two Cadillacs whose lives had changed in the passage of a single day. Nothing was able to cheer up Mary Ellen Eldorado. She wept daily for her lost daughter. Charles was a different man also. The tragedy had torn away some of his most well known qualities. He may have had his undesirable ways but his child had meant more to him than he had likely ever let on. Even if she loved a racecar, he had never not loved her because of it. How he regretted now the strictness he had imposed upon her. He wished he could have taken back so many of the callous things he had said.

One day when Mary Ellen went out for a solo drive, specifically requesting to be alone, the bell rang at the Eldorado residence. Charles tossed _The Rearview Mirror_ he had been barely focusing on aside and went to answer it. Outside sat a turquoise Plymouth known simply as Margot. "Hello handsome. Been missing you and heard I could find you here." she said with a smirk.

Charles glared and through clenched teeth demanded, "Well, did you also hear what happened?!"

She was startled by his hostile reaction. "I don't know, Charley. I hear a lot through the grapevine. How're ya doing?"

"Dammit, don't call me Charley!" he snapped. "I'll tell you what happened. My daughter is _DEAD._ She was killed on her way home from here and not only was she killed but also the two children she was expecting. How do you think I'm doing?!"

Margot looked up the long hood of the older Cadillac, feeling faintly intimidated by him for the first time. "I didn't know."

"Well, now you do!"

"Do you still want—"

"No I do NOT want anything you want to offer me. I'm through! And if that's the only inappropriate answer you have to my only child being killed, then you can turn right around right now and leave my property! It's over, scram!" he yelled.

She immediately started backing up but not before shouting back, "Wait till I find your wife and tell her you're a cheat! Maybe you got your just desserts!"

"And a nice day to you too!" he growled and slammed the door shut for emphasis. But as he sat behind it, staring blankly at the wood grain, he thought of what she had said. _Maybe you got your just desserts._ Maybe this was the payment he was to live with for being a paramour with his wife. What harm did she actually mean by watching a simple TV show? Not enough for him to offer payback in the form of cheating on her not just once but numerous times in the past when things grew too stale between them. And where did those affairs get him? Nowhere but inevitable trouble. Nowhere but shame for his daughter and unhappiness for his wife. Nowhere decent. And now that their only child was gone, adding further unhappiness to his wife's existence wouldn't simply be a bad idea; it'd be cruel. He may have been cross in mannerism many a time, but he wasn't cruel. The old Cadillac slowly backed up till he was facing the mirror in the hallway. He met the eyes of his reflection in an unwavering stare and said to his double, "Maybe it _is_ payback for being such a cheat. What _has_ kept Mary Ellen from leaving? Obviously for whatever reason she still loves you, even though you're likely the most unworthy chassis on four wheels of that love. Now all you have is her. Don't mess up anymore. You can't turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again."

. . . .

Charles stood by for his wife's return and looked at her with new eyes as she came in the door. Her gaze was downcast to her pale yellow hood and it barely averted as she drove down the hall. "Hello Charley," she quietly greeted her husband in the sitting room doorway. Before he was afforded the chance to speak she had already vanished into their bedroom and nudged the door partly shut. To him it seemed as if she had already surrendered to the fact he so little gave her the time of day, for he was either occupied with the television or out somewhere engaging in something immoral with the girls he so often found so willing.

This is what it had come to. She was wrecked by the loss of her their daughter yet she hadn't a decent mate to turn to with her grief. Something had to be done. As harsh as the green Cadillac could be, he still had a heart. He considered the matter only a moment longer before abandoning his post and seeking out his wife.

She was facing away from him when he silently pulled into the room. Her gaze went outwards to the landscape outside the picture window. The distant mountain range was capped in early snow; its craggy peaks softened by the low hanging clouds and frosted pines on its slopes. She saw it but didn't. All she could think of was her treasured daughter and loneliness she couldn't escape. She didn't expect to see the gleaming grille and ebony fender enter her peripheral vision.

Charles smoothly braked when he drew is long hood even to his wife's. "How was your drive, Mary Ellen?" he asked.

She did not expect his interest also and was silent for a century of seconds before responding. "It was okay, Charley." she murmured. "All I could think of was our girl and how bright and full of life she was on her last day here with us."

"She always was a spirited one… had a lot of courage." he recalled, following her distant gaze.

"She was the sweetest thing in this world," Mary Ellen whispered, afraid to chance her tears with a firmer tone. He was never fond of "the waterworks."

"You raised her well." the older Cadillac said. Mary Ellen was unprepared when he leaned over till their sides brushed to nuzzle her with a tenderness she hadn't known since before Cornelia was born and that he had only used on his courtesans after. She had nearly forgotten the sweet side the imposing, big car so often banished from his mannerisms. She had become far more accustomed to his curt and too-serious ways. She had become used to his lack of attention. She was used to feeling invisible to the one she had fallen in love with. She wasn't blind to the fact this same man didn't just go The Chrome Cabaret for a drink; he went there to pick up girls for a one-night stand. She knew he cheated on her many times, but was passive about it. She voted denial and the company of a television set.

"What got into you, Charley?" she chanced to ask him. He met her questioning eyes.

"I already lost one individual that I loved; I'm going to appreciate even more who I have left." he answered.

She struggled to bite back the tears, but they still came. And for the first time, Charles Eldorado didn't complain.


	38. Chapter 38

38~

Evenings were the loneliest part of the day for a bewildered father and his lost daughter in Radiator Springs. The girl found time and again that she couldn't help out at the V8 Café for when families came in and she saw a child with its mother, she was shaken to the core. Why could everyone else still have their mother and yet such was stolen from her? Although Hudson was old enough to realize life was far from fair, if he had patients in the form of married couples come in, he often felt the same as his daughter did. How could so many other men have their wives and yet his, whom he loved more than he had ever loved racing, was torn from his life in one cruel moment? How could men who treated their wives as an annoyance not see how lucky they were to still have these ladies in their lives? How the disconsolate indigo car yearned for just one more year with Cornelia, that beautiful jade-green Cadillac whose hood glinted with the trimming of gold.

The clinic closed officially at 5 but by the time everything was put in its place he finally left at six. For a few moments he sat outside the building and watched the comings and goings up and down the main street; the dancing flicker of all the neon signs, the too-cheerful drift of music from the V8. It had only been two months but to him it seemed like a lifetime since he hadn't minded that part of the world. He looked just a little longer and then shook his dark blue hood sadly. Setting his engine into drive, he slowly returned to where he knew he'd find Grace.

She had turned away from the light, wreathing herself in shadows to cry alone. When the doors opened, she slowly turned and looked through the blur of her tears to see her father come in, returning from work. She couldn't muster the strength to say anything, and turned away again. No matter how hard she tried to fight her emotions though, they broke open when he brushed up against her, bestowing not words but a comforting affection so gentle, she could almost mistake it for her mother's sort of love. The tears rushed forth like the waters in a flooded stream and she buried herself in her father's side, tearing sobs wracking her frame. Hudson's strikingly blue eyes turned sadly to the framed wedding portrait of Cornelia and him five short years before where it sat next to the racing trophies Grace had finally persuaded him to put out. He had done it for her. He looked at the black-and-white vision of his wife on that happy day with a wan and bittersweet sort of smile. It seemed like forever since he had seen her; not two months but two years. With a heavy sigh, he finally looked away from the past and returned to the present. Closing his eyes he leaned in to his daughter. She was all he had left from a portion of his life that was retreating faster and faster into a memory.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Before the harsh chill of winter threatened the land, Charles and Mary Ellen Eldorado decided to make their voyeur out to Radiator Springs. Their daughter may have no longer existed in a visible plain, but _her_ daughter still lived, and Charles's new rule to live by was to appreciate what was left in his life. He vowed to not even mind staying in a cone.

Grace was trying to assist Flo when from off the main street pulled in a forest-green 1930's car with black fenders accompanied by a slightly younger companion of a pale yellow hue. As soon as the male pulled beneath the canopy the girl promptly went over to assist just like Flo had taught her.

"Welcome to Flo's V8 Café, sir. What may I get you?" she asked, attempting to not feel nervous under his shifting gaze. Not only did he see her but it was obvious he was inspecting everything else around him.

"Well, my wife and I have come here to visit a relative. Don't know if you'd know her but her name is Grace Hornet."

Grace was startled at his words and when she could finally compose herself she said barely above a whisper, "I'm Grace Hornet, sir."

His eyes went wide. "You're the girl we're looking for?"

"Yes. Who are you?" she asked, even though she knew it was impolite.

A surprisingly warm smile curved onto the big car's front bumper and the same light entered his eyes. "I'm your grandfather, honey, and this is your grandmother." he said as his wife came nearer to see.

"Grace! Oh, you are such a beautiful girl." the yellow Cadillac murmured with a loving voice.

"I… I never thought I'd meet you." Grace stammered, still stunned.

Charles sighed. "I only wish we had come sooner. Things must be so hard for you."

"I miss Mama so badly," the youngest car murmured, biting the inside of her cheek to stave off any tears. She never wanted to cry in front of the customers. She didn't notice Flo come up beside her.

"Well, hello folks! Is everything alright?" she asked, looking towards Grace with a concerned expression.

"I'm fine, Flo. Meet my grandparents… they came just now."

The mint-green car turned to the two arrivals and smiled softly. "Well, it's a real pleasure to meet you. I'm so sorry about what happened to your daughter. It was a crime. Her absence leaves a hole no one can hope to fill. The poor baby here has been so lost. I've done what I can to make her feel a little better."

"We appreciate that, we really do." Charles replied, and Mary Ellen wasn't the only one to see he meant it.

Charles Eldorado had turned over a new leaf in many aspects and no longer looked down upon the ex-racecar that was the love of his daughter's life. He saw the sleek blue car for who he was; not only a grief-stricken husband but also a father who had lost his two other unborn children in the accident that took his mate's life.

The older Cadillac did not complain (too loudly, at least) over the cones, although his opinion about them being "funky" wasn't going to be under a lock entirely. Charles was Charles, after all. But while he stayed in the town he did something that no one could have expected, least of all his wife. It had started one afternoon when he was apprehended by a flame-painted Impala.

"Hey! You need a paintjob, man!" he greeted. If this had been the old Charles, he would have told this guy where to go in a microsecond, but he voted a different approach.

"Maybe I do. What do you think would work for me?" he asked.

"Ooo, I got some great ideas. Follow me back to my place and I'll show you what I'm thinking." the Impala prodded.

"Alright, sounds good." Charles agreed. Why wouldn't it be a good idea to get repainted? A decent step towards getting rid of the profile he'd formed as an infidel would be to trade the paintwork so many other women knew for something that would be uniquely belonging to his wife.

Back in Ramone's House of Body Art, the Impala showed ideas of what he thought would look splendid, and the old Cadillac was admittedly intrigued.

"You know, man, I think a nice update for you would be a rich gold color, you know? Gold would really look good on you with the black fenders. Some yellow pin striping on the black would look _muy bueno_ too."

"You've got me interested," Charles said, smirking.

"Yeah, man? What do you think of the idea of the paint being metal-flake? That is really stately, y'know?"

"Metal-flake? That _does_ sound good. On one condition though," Charles said, leaning in towards the Impala.

"Sure man?" Ramone asked.

Charles flashed a broad smile. "This Cadillac would like metal-flake with real gold-flakes in it. How's that sound, homeboy?"

"Oooo, that could be done." Ramone acceded excitedly.

"Well, let's do it."

"It's a deal, man! And I guarantee you'll be loving it."

The next day Charles Eldorado drove out of the House of Body Art a new man with glittering gold paint offset nicely by his black fenders which now had gold pinstripes across them. He was glad to let his past go. The old Cadillac would always be rather egotistical, so an even more stellar paintjob was prime to flaunt. But there was only one this time he'd revel in flaunting it at.

And what's even better? Mary Ellen loved it too.


	39. Chapter 39

39~

 **5 YEARS LATER**

Things changed so much and yet in other ways they did not. Grace grew into a beautiful woman with lovely curves and attracted a fair many looks from admiring men but she never indulged them with interest in return. She wasn't concerned. She used all of her attention on her father who had never recovered fully from his wife's death. He put his focus onto his daughter and into his work, which he was unfailingly good at. This didn't really matter to him, though. He hadn't been able to save the love of his life. If there was anything he _should_ have been able to do, it would have been that. And he couldn't.

Grace still worked at the V8 for Flo, but upon becoming an adult she was hired as an employee. After her mother's death the girl had grown even closer to the ex-Motorama car than she had been even before the tragedy struck and would turn to her with worries and thoughts she wasn't quite certain about her father being able to answer. He would do his very best for her, but a female touch was still different and something he'd never hope to have.

"We're glad you're still here, _chica._ " Ramone told Grace on evening at the café. She smiled.

"I love it here; nowhere else I'd want to go."

"There's a big world beyond this town though." he reminded.

"I know, but… where would I even start? I love everyone here. And…" she started, letting that word hang in the air.

"And what, _mija?_ " he asked.

"And… my father needs me." she murmured. "He'd be lost if I left town. He's never said it to me, but I know he gets lonely."

Ramone gave her a gentle smile. "Your mama meant the world to him, honey. I remember when they first came here, before they actually moved here. I don't think I ever saw a more loving couple."

Grace smiled wistfully. "You and Flo are loving too, though." she pointed out. Ramone looked towards his wife from where she was cheerfully talking to a customer.

"Eh, it's nothing like your parents' relationship. Flo and I have our moments where we argue and need our space apart. Your folks though… all I ever saw was unconditional love and caring. I never heard anything but a kind word they had for each other. It wasn't an act either, _mija._ They meant it." he said, meeting Grace's soft blue eyes.

"I wish she was still here…" she sighed.

"You'll always have your memories of her, _chica._ " the Impala reminded.

"Sometimes though they just aren't the same…"

When her shift ended she bid Flo a good night and gave her a kiss on the fender like she had been doing ever since she lost her mother. Then she turned towards home and to her father's business where a pale yellow light emanated from between the blinds in the plate glass windows. Nudging open the doors she found her father where she had expected, going over some papers from the day's patients.

"Hello darling," he warmly greeted.

"Hello Daddy," she replied and pulled up around and came up alongside him to look at the confusing charts and figures that only he could understand.

"Did you have a nice evening, Grace?" he asked, abandoning his work to fully give her his attention. She pressed up against his side and smiled softly. "I did. What about you? Did you have a good day?"

"It was busy and tiring and not nearly as exciting as an evening at the V8." he retorted with a smile.

"I'd trade places with you for a day, Daddy, but I don't think it'd go over. After all, what would they think of the Doctor of Internal Combustion being a girl?" she giggled.

He gently leaned in to affectionately nuzzle her and said, "Don't underestimate yourself, Grace. A girl can do anything."

She savored his loving touch but before long the words Ramone had spoken entered her mind once more and the subjects they raised to light. And she had to know it for its truth once and for all.

"Daddy," she began. "Are you… lonely?"

He offered her a smile and said, "How could I be with such a sweet girl for my daughter"

Grace was tempted to smile but fought it back for her desire of the truth. "I mean it. Are you lonely?" she pressed.

He sighed. "I'll never stop loving and missing your mother, if that's what you want to know, Grace."

"So… you _are_ lonely." she murmured.

"Not as lonely as I could be without you, honey." he assured as she pressed further into his indigo side. "You're all I could ask for."

"What if…." she hesitated.

"What if what?" he gently prompted.

She found the idea disturbing and nearly unfathomable to consider, but had to voice it for it'd continue to worry her otherwise. "What if there ever comes a day some other woman loves you? Will you marry her?"

He shook his dark blue hood for a no. "Your mother asked me one time what I'd do if something ever happened to her. At that time I hoped such a thought was only that and would never come true. Either way though, what I promised her was true and will always stand. I will never remarry. I could never love anyone the way I loved your mother."

She was relieved to know this but was caring enough also to be concerned. "But, you will always be lonely, won't you?"

"I'll be fine, honey. Don't worry about me. Promise that?" he asked, meeting her gaze with his azure eyes.

She knew she couldn't keep the pact but she could see it was what he wanted; something he wanted more than his request could say.

"I promise you, Daddy." she finally replied.

The Sunday drive tradition Cornelia and Hudson had started was continued with Grace on every weekend that the weather was fair and even on some days that it wasn't so fair. A light rain wasn't a bother to either of them, but it was a fact they both thought something they were reluctant to voice to each other; as wonderful as the showers were, they had been a contributing factor to Cornelia's untimely death. Because of this they always drove slower than the speed limit. Sometimes they drove all the way to the welcome sign to Radiator Springs where the black-and-white police cruiser would stake out claims to watch for speeders, something he'd been even more diligent about than before to prevent any other events to happen to individuals like the Cadillac. Sometimes they drove a couple miles past this. Both avoided the stretch where Cornelia had her devastating crash. But Hudson knew he couldn't avoid it forever. One day he left Grace with Flo and went out for a solo drive; his first destination to meet up with the police car.

The sheriff wasn't expecting to see the indigo blue Hudson Hornet on a Saturday afternoon and he rose up to attention as the other slowed to a halt before him. "Sheriff, I have something I need for you to do for me."

"Well sure, Hudson. Is something amiss in town?" he asked. Hudson shook his dark hood.

"Nothing like that. You and Mater went out to where my wife was very-nearly killed… you remember the location?"

Sheriff was sure of where this was leading and wasn't sure what he thought about it. "Yes, I remember." he allowed.

"Please take me there. I have to see for my own reasons." the blue car instructed in a certain tone.

"Are you sure about that, Hudson?" he asked.

"Yes. I am positive. I've waited too long as it is."

Sheriff sighed and turned over his engine. "This will be difficult for you, you know." The slightly younger car met the police cruiser with his firm azure gaze.

"Nothing will be harder than to have the love of my life die before my very eyes because I could do nothing to save her." he quietly replied before setting his own motor into the first gear. "Lead the way."

The drive was taken in silence and the miles passed uneventfully until the brake lights of the black-and-white flared on and he pulled to a halt on the side of the road. Hudson slowly followed suit, coming up beside Sheriff.

"She came to a stop here after rolling at least 6 times. You see that dip in the road over there a few? The bottom of that was flooded from the rains and when she hit it and tried to slow down, she lost control and flipped. She was going close to 95 because of the two who were threatening her."

Hudson looked distantly towards the empty road in the direction Sheriff pointed out. He glared and said in a low tone, "I hope those damned punks get what's comin' at them one day soon."

"I don't know what happened to them, Hudson. They skipped the county and apparently the whole state too." the police car sighed. "No one's found them yet, and with this much time going by, there's no telling if they will be."

"I hope one day they'll know what it's like to live every day for years without someone they love." the indigo car asserted. "You can go on and return to town, Sheriff. I'll be back in awhile. I just need this time on my own, please."

The police-car nodded. "I understand; will see you later on. Drive safely."

"Thanks for bringing me here, I appreciate it."

"I'd normally say it'd be a pleasure, but it's everything but that for something as tragic as this." he said, dipping his hood in acknowledgment before turning and slowly going back to town.

When the sound of his engine faded, leaving only a lonely soundtrack of the wind rustling the sagebrush in the surrounding desert, Hudson turned back to the present which felt as lonely as that sound. He looked down the road as far as he could see, glad that there were no travelers, as unusual as that was for a weekend. To be alone was the most befitting. He closed his eyes and sighed, his frame sinking low. When he looked out again he couldn't help but wonder if the glittering fragments of half-buried glass, poking from the red-orange sands, were from some event many, many more years before or if they actually were from the shatter of his wife's lights. He didn't want to believe the latter but somehow… it seemed right. What other chances were there of another car crashing at this same spot before or after? Aside from the macabre glitter, nothing made this stretch of roadway any different than what came around it, but somehow it seemed to be so dissimilar that it was as if a sign was erected, announcing it to be so. Life on that fated day had come full circle, he bitterly thought. In 1954 he had been the one who had lost control and flipped again and again. He had been the one to leave behind in a dirt track the tailings of his shattered lights. He had been the one helplessly laid up with not one but two broken axles. She had been the one beautifully perfect. But then… she met fate. And suddenly the roles were reversed, but not in a way as successful. He had been repaired to near like-new condition, aside from those scratches. Her life had been taken from her.

She had been vibrant and beautiful and such a special girl. She had been his other half. She had been Grace's cherished mother.

She had been pregnant and would have been the cherished mother of two other children as well. But all of this had been torn from her because of the cruel ways of two punks who had vanished from the sharp eyes of the law. They had delighted in the horror they wrought onto him and his daughter and likely still retold the story of their coup.

Where was the justice in life? Why wasn't it fair?

What Grace had asked recently had been something too close to the truth for him to admit fully. He was lonely often, but not for the companionship of any other female. All he had hoped year after year was that one day this would have proven to be just a heartless sort of dream and that he'd return home from work and be greeted at the doors by Cornelia, wearing a lovely smile and that mischievous glint in her eyes that made her look like the temptress she loved playing but also appeared so sweet as well. How he wished she would tease him one more time about wanting a dozen children, even though the whole idea intimidated him. One year had morphed into two and two had turned into five. He hadn't awoken from the cruel dream; he wouldn't.

He looked up and noticed that the afternoon had swiftly passed. Shadows had lengthened and the sky was growing dimmer. Grace would be worried by now if he didn't come back before dark. He couldn't bear the thought of her fright, even though Sheriff would tell her everything was alright. She had thought everything was alright with her mother, too. With one more glance to the sand-coated particles of glass, the sleek blue car turned over his engine, switched on his headlights and made to return home. As he drove back to town, leaving the site of his wife's fateful end behind, he felt as if he left the rest of his youth back there too.

How strange it was when a tragedy could make one feel older than their years


	40. Chapter 40

40~

 **ONE YEAR AFTER THAT**

Although Hudson knew it was a hopeless effort, he eventually agreed to spending one hour on a Saturday afternoon in the presence of female company. Albeit Grace wanted no one to "replace" her mother, she still was saddened by her father's companionless existence. Aside from the townsfolk he remained kindly to, she was all he had, and she questioned how he would do when and if the day came she would want to venture outside of Carburetor County to see what lay in the great beyond. He had a wonderfully loving heart that didn't seem made for the isolation he had preferred since Cornelia's death. Grace had a hard time recalling when the last time was he lingered at the V8 Café on his own. When he would, it would be with her on a return from their Sunday drives.

So, he was not eager for the "date" but went for his daughter's sake. All it really was to be considered was a friendly get-together. The girl in question, Helen Sparks, was a pretty 1953 DeSoto, antique-white in color with pale violet eyes, which made for an unusual but not ugly combo. She had come in when her engine had acquired a knock during her California-bound trip and upon entering the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic very quickly grew smitten with the stately blue car who had set her right once more. It was his eyes that intrigued her most; so deeply blue and accented with a near constant shadow, as if something unspeakable had come into his life and the ghost of it had never left. Little did she know.

She had already staked out a place at the V8 and greeted him with a vibrant smile when he slowly pulled up. "I saved you a spot." she called out, motioning to the place next to her. He sighed quietly in surrender and pulled next to her a couple feet away. This all reminded him way too much of when he and Cornelia first came out to the town so many years before.

"Thank you," he told her as he set his parking brake and cranked off his engine. She looked over at him with warmth.

"You're plenty welcome, Mr. Hornet."

He hadn't the first idea of what on earth to say to this girl, so he went with the easiest approach: professionalism.

"So, Miss Sparks, when do you plan on going to California?" he asked. She casually shrugged and replied, "I don't really have any set time I need to be there. I was just going to visit my sister; she's not expecting me."

He nodded in acknowledgement. She smiled and took her chance to ask him something. "Have you been a doctor long, Mr. Hornet?"

"A fair number of years so far, yes." he answered.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"It's what it is." he said, vague.

Before she had the chance to get further conversation out of him, a beautiful young Cadillac of a seafoam-green color came up before them. Helen noticed her companion's loving smile upon seeing her.

"Is there anything I can get either of you?" she asked sweetly.

Helen desired nothing and Hudson shook his hood for a no. "I'm alright, but thank you very much for asking, honey."

"That's my job!" she laughed. "Let me know if you change your minds."

"Will surely do." he promised her. She gave him a knowing sort of wink and turned to the newest arrival a few rows down. Helen watched her and before she had the chance to ask her companion told her the answer.

"That's my daughter, Grace. She's worked here for the owner, Flo, a few years."

"She looks like a sweet girl." she said, meaning it. That ghost of a shadow passed over the indigo car's brilliant eyes and his smile turned longing.

"She is… she's so like her mother in many ways." he said in a reminiscent tone. Helen had noticed the pale gold wedding ring bordering his left front chrome rim before and glanced towards it again. He seemed to not fit the profile of an infidel, but if he were married why hadn't the lady in question been mentioned or even seen? Helen's curiosity demanded to be satiated so she asked.

"Is the owner of the Café here your wife, Grace's mother?" she asked.

"No, no." he answered in a solemn tone. He volunteered nothing more and she knew not to push. All she could guess was that something had happened to his wife. He was still young, so she assumed Mrs. Hornet could be nothing more than severely ill. It didn't sound like they were on the outs with each other. Too much affection was in his tone. She shrugged softly.

"Are you from here originally, Mr. Hornet?" she asked, hoping to change the subject to something more pleasant.

"No. I'm from a place called Thomasville." he replied.

"I've never heard of it…" she admitted.

"It's nothing amazing." he said simply.

She sighed. He seemed like he had the ability to be conversational, but was just a closed book otherwise.

He hadn't any idea of what to make of having company like this and it struck him as being more difficult than being alone aside from his daughter's camaraderie. All he could think of was Cornelia and how much some part of his mind kept thinking that when he'd look over the car next to him would be a jade Cadillac with spring-green eyes. Six years had passed since her death but it only still seemed like 6 days. He often wondered if he took such a blow harder than most would. All he did know for sure was that spending time with Helen Sparks, even a single hour, wasn't feasible. Even if she was genuinely nice and it wasn't a front, his heart just couldn't be in it. He hoped that that single spell of 60 minutes didn't give her hope for anything else, because he could promise nothing. She would be much happier continuing on her trip than linger in town wondering.

Before they parted at the end of their "date," Hudson gave her a gentle yet wan smile and said, "Whenever you plan on heading on your trip to see your sister, be sure to do one very important thing."

She firmly met his azure eyes. "Yes, Mr. Hornet?"

"Drive safely. Those words are simple but mean a lot." he replied. She was left sitting there, wondering if there was a much deeper meaning to that than he dared let on.

And she was right.

Later that day she returned to the V8 and found the beautiful finned car she had learned was Flo, the proprietor of the Café. When the ex-Motorama car turned around and her eyes landed on Helen Sparks she smiled warmly and greeted, "Well, hello again! I think I saw you around here earlier with a slice of company in the form of our one and only Doc Hudson!"

Helen smiled a bit. "Yes, that was me. I have a question."

"Go on and name it honey and we'll see if I have any answer." Flo answered amicably. Although Helen knew the reply she'd get, she knew of no other way to lead into what she'd been analyzing ever since the blue car had told her to drive safely. In any other instance it'd seem normal, but that request paired with the solemn light in his eyes made her think something was wrong.

"Are you his wife; Grace Hornet's mother?" she asked hesitantly. Flo shook her mint-green hood.

"No I am not, honey, although I've always thought of Gracie as my child. No one could hope to be like her sweet mother. Cornelia was a special type and I don't think she could have made enemies with anyone."

"Was…?" Helen pressed.

Flo looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers before coming closer and saying in a lowered voice, "Cornelia Hornet was killed after an awful crash in '59. Losin' her broke the hearts of poor Grace and Hudson, and pretty much depressed a fair many of us townsfolk."

Helen gasped. "I… I didn't expect something like that. I thought maybe she was just… I don't know… incapacitated."

"I think we all wish that were true, honey. I know Hudson and the girl certainly wish something like that was the truth instead. Even though it's been a fair number of years, there's no gettin' over something as bad as that. He's taken it hard, but I think anyone would who lost their other half and two li'l ones in a single day."

The DeSoto was horrified by what she was hearing and yet perplexed at the same time. "Two children?" she asked. "Did Grace have younger siblings?"

"Oh yes, honey. Plenty young… weren't even born yet." Flo said solemnly with a wan expression. "Poor Hudson has a heart that's permanently broke from all that, I think."

"The poor fellow!" Helen softly exclaimed. Flo nodded.

"I'm assuming you noticed he still wears his wedding ring, right?" she asked.

Helen nodded in turn. "That's what made me think his wife was still alive." she replied. Flo smiled sadly.

"He's dedicated to her for life, that's why he still wears it. I've never seen a more loving couple. He cherished her like every lady wishes she could be cherished, I think."

Helen left the station that day finally understanding the devastating reason why her afternoon companion had such a facet of sorrow in his eyes and why his admonition of "drive safely"—those two simple words—meant a lot.

. . . .

Grace was curious about how her father's visit with Helen Sparks went and asked him of it not too long after returning from her shift at the V8. "Did you have a nice time?" she gently inquired of the older blue car.

He took a few moments to compose his word and finally replied, "It didn't feel… right."

"Did you not get along?"

"Yes and no. It's just didn't feel correct to me. It felt confusing, and even worse, an honest betrayal to your mother." he admitted.

She nodded softly. "I had some idea it'd seem that way for both of us. Don't you think though…" she began, letting the sentence hang.

"Yes honey?" he suggested. She met her father's eyes fully.

"Don't you think Mama would want you to be happy?"

A gentle smile curved his gleaming front bumper. "I _am_ happy, Grace. I have you."

She sighed and replied, "I'd be afraid to ever leave you though. How would you fair spending so much time alone?" He slowly came up to her and tenderly rested his scratched fender against hers.

"Grace, listen to me. I know there will come a day you leave not only Radiator Springs but likely even Carburetor County, and I want you to… not because I want to see you go away, but because I want you to see what lies beyond the mountains. You have the lively ways of your mother and you aren't meant to stay here your whole life. She was a courageous lady with a spark and you've inherited those qualities. Don't be afraid to leave. I'll be sure to miss you, of course, but what your mother said six years ago was true: you're the most important thing in my life. I'm not concerned over myself. I have five years-worth of memories of her and although we both wish there were more that is enough to be a comfort. The other is knowing you aren't worried about me. Do you understand, darling?" he quietly told her.

Grace lightly nodded her seafoam-green hood. "Don't make me promise not to worry about you though, Daddy."

He smiled softly. "Alright, I won't."

"I could be a million miles away and I still would. I love you too much to not." she explained.

A warm and humorous light entered his azure eyes and he retorted, "If you love me _too_ much, then the degree I love you to is so far beyond that, it might be considered a crime, honey."

She gave him the playful sort of shove she used to when she was a child and laughed. "Well, I'll make sure Sheriff doesn't know. I don't want to see my father tried and locked up at that dirty ol' impound for that."

His reaction to the shove was to give her a loving nuzzle in return. "Neither of us will ever know what your siblings would have been like, but one thing I _do_ know is that you're the most wonderful daughter I could have ever hoped to have, Grace."

She returned the affection answering, "And I'll never find anyone else I'd rather call my father."


	41. Chapter 41

41~

Hudson wasn't the only one disinterested in the company of someone else of the opposing gender. Grace, working at the Café like she did, was in the public eye of several bachelor fellows who thought she was more of a joy to look at than a smoothly paved road. The Cadillac though had grown tired of it very quickly and fumed about it to her father one evening when she returned from her shift.

"It seems like every week I have some guy giving me a wink! I'm not interested! Tonight this Oldsmobile called me 'honey' when I gave him his order and had the nerve to wink with it. I told him I wasn't his honey. I'm tired of it! I'm tired of men!" she raged.

Hudson knew this was a difficult thing to deal with in her life but still met it out with humor to try to calm her down. He smiled and asked kindly, "Am I included in that, Grace?"

Her eyes went wide at the realization of her verbal mistake. "No, no, no! I… I…" He chuckled at her flabbergasted shock.

"Don't apologize, honey. I understand how you feel. When I was younger and in the height of my career as a racer I had all manner of lady of every age, all trying to get me to pay attention to them. It does get tiring. I'm afraid to say though that you'll have to be expecting many double-takes here and there. You've grown into a beautiful young lady with that wonderful personality your mother had."

She sulked. "That still doesn't mean I have to accept any advance thrown at me."

"Of course not, though I'm sure your mind will change one day." he answered. She met his eyes again.

"You're sure about that?" she skeptically asked. He casually shrugged.

"I can't say I know for sure, no, but I have the idea you'll likely want to trade in your surname one day. I doubt a spunky girl like you will want to wear my boring last name forever." Her eyes went even wider, if that was possible.

"Boring?! You're _the_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet, the greatest racecar that ever competed. It ties me to a champion. I'm perfectly happy being Grace Hornet!" she exclaimed. His smile stayed affectionate and gentle.

"I'm happy you don't mind it, but when the time comes you find someone you love; don't pass that chance up just for that." he told her.

"It's not 'when,' Daddy, it's 'if.' _If_ I ever decide to marry anyone, it's not going to be any random guy at the V8 who tells me I'm pretty. No, I'm going to follow Mama's example and love a racecar. And if I never find anyone? I'll stay single." she replied in a firm tone that told her mind wouldn't likely sway on her decisions.

Helen Sparks stayed in Radiator Springs a little over a week before checking out of the Cozy Cone and deciding to continue on her trip. Before she left though, she knew there was one individual she had to see one more time. She stopped by the V8 to ask Flo the whereabouts about the indigo car she had spent her "date" with. She directed the DeSoto to the Mechanical Clinic. The younger car took a deep breath, hoping for courage, and cautiously entered the office. Her sought-for car was there as promised, unoccupied at the moment though looked as if he had finished a task prior.

"Hello Mr. Hornet." she greeted lightly. His azure eyes landed on her pair of violet.

"Well, hello once more. I didn't know you were still here, Miss Sparks." he said. She smiled.

"I'm actually leaving today, but I had to see you first." she answered.

"Is something wrong with your engine again?" She shook her hood.

"No sir. I want to say thanks for your fixing me up so well. I really am grateful." she told.

"It's all part of my job but, you're welcome." he politely answered. A pang of commiseration ran through her as she silently gazed at him, wondering about the life he had before the death of his wife and two other infant children. He had such somber accents that lit his eyes but managed to still be so strong even though she was sure it took its own share of effort. She knew she could not reveal anything Flo told her to the sufferer of the tragedy, but still could show somehow that she cared.

"I promise to drive safely on my way to see my sister and on the way home." she said. He nodded lightly.

"That's the best thing, for everyone."

And then, before she could talk herself out of doing it (which she very likely would have done had she over thought it), she drove over to him and then leaned forth to give him a soft and sympathetic kiss on the side of his left fender, above the shining gold wedding ring that tied him only to a memory. The unexpected gesture startled him into not even being able to react. Helen wished she could express all of the sorrow she felt for him, but knew that couldn't be. When she moved away, she met his blue eyes and left with him a supplication that she could only hope he regarded as sincere as she meant it.

"I hope all of the years before you are happier ones, Mr. Hornet."


	42. Chapter 42

42~

 **LATER 1960s**

"Did you all hear the news?! The Interstate is comin' right on through here! Whoo, can you just _imagine_ all the folks that'll be stopping by now?! I can hardly believe it myself!" Flo announced to the locals on a quiet Saturday night. Mater grinned at Luigi. The yellow Fiat couldn't contain his joy.

"Oh, just imagine all of the folks coming in for-a the tires! Guido, we won't even be able to-a see straight!" he exclaimed to his sidekick. Guido bounced joyfully and replied something in a cheery Italian. Luigi nodded in utter understanding. The tow truck turned back to Flo.

"You'll be so busy ya might even have to hire someone else alongside Miss Gracie." he pointed out. Flo laughed.

"You sho' might be right! I have to get my Ramone to work a few hours, if that doesn't cramp his style." she said, throwing her green gaze over to her husband where he quietly sucked on his oil can a few feet away.

"Baby," he said, looking up. "If all these folk want a new paintjob like I'm thinking they will, how will I have time to come here and be a waiter?" Flo rolled her eyes casually.

"Well, be that way! If you think you're too good to dish out a few orders here and there, then I'll just consider someone else for the job. I may not need anyone though, y'know. Grace is a pretty fast worker. May even be swifter with the service than me!"

Grace smiled as she came up alongside Flo. The hues of their paint complemented each other in such a way that, along with her shorter fins, the Cadillac and Motorama beauty looked shockingly like mother and daughter. Her blue eyes met Flo's green, a gaze so similar to her own mother's also that it struck her silently stunned again and again.

"I'll never be swifter than you, Flo. You're probably the most hospitable waitress _and_ station owner in the whole state."

"You _are_ a doll, Gracie." Flo chuckled.

Ramone sat in deep thought for a few minutes and when he broke from it exclaimed, "I got just the idea, baby!" Flo looked over at him, one of the rims over her eyes raised in a way that told of her piqued interest.

"You and your ideas, Ramone. What is this time? Decide I'd look a whole lot better with a new paintjob and them ghost flames to match you?" she asked. If the Impala could have blanched under his dark paint, he would have.

"WHAT? No! Baby, you're like one of the Seven Wonders of the World, y'know? Perfection! _Muy precioso_." he hurriedly interjected.

"What's your idea?" Grace asked him with curiosity. He visibly relaxed out from under his wife's outlandish words.

"Well, I'm thinking I could paint up a nice advertisement board, y'know? Could do one for the town and a real nice one for the Café here. Could even draw a picture of you on it, Flo! Just imagine! 'Stop in at Flo's V8 Café – The Finest Fuel on Route 66!'" he envisioned.

Flo laughed. "Honey, I don't want my picture on it. You think I enjoy the idea of every soul travelin' on the Interstate looking at me? No sir."

"I can't figure you out, baby." he retorted, feigning exasperation. Flo looked over to Grace and they both shared a conspiratorial look.

"Women aren't meant to be figured out, honey." she told him with her gleaming smile. Grace laughed. That would so be like something her beloved mother would have said.

. . . .

WHEN the construction of the Interstate 40 began coming through the countryside and towards Radiator Springs, all of the townsfolk went out to see its progress. Despite her joy at the idea of a thoroughfare bringing more folks to her adored hometown, she was struck shocked by something she just… hadn't expected.

"They… they're cutting _through_ the mountains. I thought… I thought it would _follow_ the mountains." she murmured as she pulled close to her father on the overlook that gave them a broad view of the construction below and beyond. They both had moved further away from the crowd of the other townsfolk.

Hudson studied the landscape carefully and with a measured gaze. "Cutting through doesn't really improve the scenery, does it?" he finally replied.

Grace shook her hood for a no. "It doesn't… but, I guess things have to change. Times change." Her father met her eyes.

"That's true, honey. Times do change." he agreed. They both understood these words and their meaning went far beyond what they were both viewing. Grace looked back to the graded desert and all of the machines busily at work. It was the most stunning thing she had seen, despite the shock it had given her. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Look how wide they were making the road! She couldn't even begin to fathom how many folks would travel upon it, to other destinations but also to her town. Flo might end up needing another worker after all. She commented such to her father.

"If there were two of you, she'd be doing just fine I think." Hudson told her with a smile.

"Oh, I don't know about that. If there were two of her, it'd be a whole lot better." Grace laughed. "I still think you should help her out, Daddy."

He casually rolled his eyes. "I've told both of you before that I'm the least suitable individual for the job."

"I'm just messing with you." she jested. "Even if you thought you _were_ suited for the job, you couldn't do it. Why, with all these folks that this road will bring through, I'm sure a good few will get a knock in their engine or something. You're the only one that can fix 'em up."

He nodded in understanding. "Well, I assume a few more will come through town. I just hope they'll come for remotely minor fixes. A road as big as that will bring the good and the bad."

Grace nodded in turn, thinking of the reports she had heard of the thugs who had harmed her mother. She hoped there weren't too many of that kind out loose, wreaking havoc to other innocents.

"I unfortunately fear that there will likely be a few delinquent road hazards here and there. But… maybe I'll be proven wrong. Maybe there's still a whole lot more good than bad that road will bring." he continued. Grace looked over at him.

"I hope so too," she agreed.

Later on she and her father reconsidered the grand new road they had seen. Grace wondered so much that Hudson had no answers for. She knew this also, but still couldn't help but think aloud. "What do you think Mama would think about the Interstate?" she queried. The indigo car shrugged unceremoniously.

"I wish I could tell you for sure, Grace, but I can't know fully." he answered.

"Do you think she'd like it?"

"I think she'd have the same reaction that you did: being surprised that the mountains were being cut through. Any roads we ever traveled on weren't like that. I've never seen anything like it either, to be honest." he told her. "But one thing I _do_ know about her is that even if she wouldn't be sure about something initially, she'd give it her best acceptance and see how things went. She'd be open-minded, just like you are."

Grace smiled softly at the comparison. "Well, I don't want to dislike something before I know how it'll be. Even though I think what they're doing to the landscape is ugly, it'll bring so many more folks to town. It'll be so good for business. Why, Flo won't be the only one benefitting. Mr. Springson at the Cozy Cone will be plenty glad also, I'm sure. We'll have to figure out some nice way to introduce the travelers to town…" she mused.

Her father prompted her with his azure eyes. The younger car thought and then finally lit up at a found idea.

"We could make up a nice banner that says something like 'Welcome Interstate 40 Travelers'. Ramone could paint it up, probably. It could be hung up over the road so everyone who comes in will see it. It'll look good for us too. That way they'll all know we're nice, friendly folks."

"That's not a bad idea." he decided. "You should tell that to him when the road's finished."

. . . .

It was a few days later that Grace was tugged aside by Ramone after her shift at the V8 Café finished and she was deciding to head home. "You got a few minutes _, mija?_ " he asked her from where he had motioned her over under the canopy of his painting shop. The Cadillac nodded.

"Of course. As much time as you need. Is there anything wrong?" she asked the Impala.

"No, no, no. Nothing wrong. I just have something I want to tell you." he assured. She smiled warmly.

"Well, tell away!" she urged. He returned her smile.

"Gracie, I've probably told you this before, years ago, but some things have to be told again. You've just done such good for my Flo. She loves you to bits, y'know? Lights up with you in her life."

The Cadillac softly laughed. "Aww, well, I love her plenty also. I'll always miss my mama, but she's a lot like one to me also. I know I'm not as lost as I could be."

"She's glad she can be a comfort to you, _mija._ Like you already know, when she and I got together all those years ago, she wanted to settle down from her Motorama girl life and wanted to have one or two kids. She may have been a showgirl, but she had the heart and the goodness where I knew she'd be a real good mama. It just wasn't in the works for us though. She had set her heart on this, figured she'd have herself a little one before much time went by. When it never happened… the poor girl… she got so sad. It's probably hard for you to imagine Flo sad; she's just so energetic and always wears a smile it seems. But she was sad then, for such a long time. She put all of her efforts into getting the Café running but when she'd come home… sometimes she'd just cry. I felt so bad for her and didn't know how to cheer her up. Seeing someone as pretty as her cry her heart out just is horrible, 'cause folks would think just by her looks she'd be happy and have it all, y'know?"

Grace nodded.

"But what she really wanted was to have a son or daughter, if not both, to take care of. And then, somehow, just at the right time something great happened."

The younger Cadillac smiled softly, knowing what she may hear next. Ramone smiled in turn. "This sweet li'l girl came into her life and decided she was wonderful. This little girl didn't just enjoy her company, no. She genuinely loved her. And when this girl asked Flo if she could think of her as her second mama, something even greater happened. _My_ girl didn't just wear her smile at work but at home also. Her sadness fell away because in some form, she got to become a mother after all."

When Grace later left she didn't head straight home, not at first. She slowly drove back to the empty Café, knowing only a little while existed before all of the lights would be shut down and it'd be closed for the evening officially. As the Cadillac pulled up, Flo came from around the corner of the main building and greeted Grace with a bright but somewhat confused smile. "Why, I thought you'd be off at home by now, baby girl!"

Grace smiled in return. "I'm heading back soon, but there was something I forgot to tell you, Flo."

The mint-green car slowed to a halt before her under some of the last lit-up strips of neon. The reflected patterns on their shiny paintwork resembled crazy swirls and loops. "Well, go on and shoot, honey." Flo replied.

Grace thought of the story Ramone had told her, aspects of it still new and unknown to her. She never could have imagined her dearest friend being so depressed at one time and couldn't help but feel bad even though things had changed for her now. The Cadillac then leaned in and gave the Motorama car a kiss on the side of her fender, saying, "I don't tell you as often as I should, but I love you dearly, Flo. I would have been even more bewildered after losing my mama if you weren't in my life. Thank you for everything."

Flo gave her a warmer smile opposite of her professional-like one she wore around her café guests. A gentle and adoring tenderness had filled her green gaze. She leaned in to nuzzle the Cadillac and softly answered, "You've done me a whole heaping of good, honey. Loving you isn't a hard task. You're the daughter I knew I would have had, had I been lucky. But, I got lucky in a whole diff'rent way and I ain't got a single thing to be sorry about."


	43. Chapter 43

43~

Hudson was parked half in the shade, half in the sun outside of the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic. From there he had a good view of the happenings over on the main street where Mater was hoisting a brilliant and new banner from the light posts. Across it read 'Welcome Interstate 40 Travelers,' just like how his daughter had suggested. The big new road had been completed through Ornament Valley and everyone was excitedly anticipating all of the newcomers to town. Well, almost everyone.

The indigo-blue car still wasn't quite sure what he thought. He didn't mind the tourism the town already had – that wasn't any issue to him – but something as great and large as this new roadway seemed to not bode well with him. He knew sadly that there were plenty of delinquents out there like the ones who had taken his wife's life from her, and he feared that this could make it worse. He didn't want to ever see another fatal accident. Even the minor fender-benders reminded him too much of his beloved Cornelia.

Although the view he had of the small festivities wasn't as clear or near as some would have wished, Hudson saw no need to come closer. He could see everything perfectly well here. He wasn't much in a celebratory sort of mood anyway.

The banner rose up above the street and unfurled with a satisfying snap once it was secured. A cheer rose up from the gathered residents and other visitors nearby who had congregated to see the happenings. The silver Buick who ran the Cozy Cone grinned a mile wide as he looked over the hanging. "I may have to expand the motel now! There's no telling how many folks this'll bring about!"

"Those cones might become even more popular than they already are, Mr. Springson!" Grace agreed with a laugh. "I'd definitely keep the idea of expanding in mind!"

"Can you just imagine everyone that's gonna come in and want a new paintjob? _Hijole,_ I'll be crazy busy, man." Ramone gleefully interjected. His wife nudged him.

"They'll only get a new paintjob if you keep houndin' 'em about it, Ramone. Not everyone wants flames, you know."

Grace smiled and looked at the smart banner again before looking through the gathered crowd. One car she did not see was her father. "Excuse me." she murmured to a tourist nearby before carefully backing up and leaving the group. When she turned down the street, she had only happened to glance over at the Mechanical Clinic when her eyes found the sleek blue car parked out front. Slowing, she pulled in to meet her father with a smile which he warmly returned. "Having a good time, Grace?" he asked her. She looped around and pulled even lengths to him against his left side.

"It's nice enough, but not the same without my daddy." she pointed out, her light blue eyes meeting his darker pair.

"I would be nothing but a spoilsport amid all that, darling." he answered, good humored.

"That's a bunch of tommyrot. My father could only make it all a lot better!" she laughed, but then turned serious. "Are you alright?"

He looked towards the road a block or so down and all of the gathered cars convening at the V8. Without breaking his gaze he answered, "I'm fine, Grace, don't worry. I'm just… wondering." Looking now at his daughter he continued, "I can't help but be apprehensive over the new road; the folks traveling on it. I reckon worrying doesn't solve anything but all the same, I'm hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. So far as we all know, you mother's attackers are still loose; still likely causing problems. Delinquents rarely change their ways willingly. This here road could bring them again or more like them."

The Cadillac sighed. "I hope they're caught one day and locked up forever."

"I'm hoping that until the day I drive my last mile," he replied. Grace looked back to the congregated autos.

"You know," she started, trying to dispel the heaviness that had entered the air. "Mr. Springson thinks he may have to enlarge the motel. He thinks a lot of folks will want to stay."

"He may not be wrong," he father agreed.

With a good-natured smile Grace joked, "Radiator Springs may grow so big it'll be like the Detroit of the west!"

Hudson laughed. "I'm hoping that _doesn't_ happen! I'm not really fond of suburban life, to be honest."

"What was your hometown like?" his daughter asked, shifting the subject. He casually shrugged.

"Thomasville wasn't big and it wasn't entirely small. It was larger than this town because of the track. That contributed a lot of differences."

Grace turned her attention fully away from the banner-raising party. "What else was it like?" she urged, interested in any of the stories of her father's earlier years. He considered her question.

"Well, it was different than here because of the climate, I guess. There were pines there and in the winter it could snow a lot, not like how it just dusts a little here."

"Was it pretty?" she asked. He shrugged again.

"Unfortunately, I was focused too much on my career then and didn't really notice things like that, not until I met your mother. She brought the beauty into my life and made me appreciate a whole lot more off the track."

"Did she like Thomasville?"

"Not nearly as much as she loved it here. There were too many memories there, good and bad. We both needed a change after getting married. What I do know is that she loved the desert more than the mountains. Ornament Valley was one of the prettiest things she'd ever seen, she told me. She never wanted to go back to Thomasville."

Grace nodded silently and thought for a long time over her father's words, so long that he figured she was done with subject. And then said she in a brooding and soft tone, "I want to see Thomasville one day – to see where you and Mama met and where _that_ life began."

Hudson dreaded the mere idea of facing the buried – albeit hopelessly – ghosts of his racing days and the phantoms of an earlier time with his gone-forever wife, but that was unfair to feel for his daughter whom he loved more than anything or anyone else in his life now. He closed his azure eyes briefly, seeing in his mind the words Cornelia would plead him to say. Upon opening them again he looked to Grace and spoke them.

"I will take you there one day, darling."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Interstate 40 brought many. It brought the young and the old. It brought the newlywed and those celebrating marriages spanning decades. It brought born-Americans and those of another nation's birth. It brought the sweet-tempered, the ill-tempered, and it brought what one indigo ex-racecar called "delinquents."

The Porsche and Bentley had made the error of stopping in Radiator Springs in broad daylight, something both had avoided ever since sending a green Cadillac to her death in 1959. The law had trailed them for years, but they had always been one step ahead. And then this happened, a niggling yet so important reading on their gauges that told they had miscalculated and if they didn't stop at a station very soon, they'd wind up out of commission on the shoulder of the highway, at a huge risk of being identified by police. So they took their chances and entered the only close town.

They would not be driving back out.

Although years had gone by, the black-and-white Mercury did not ever give up on finding the criminals who had killed Cornelia Hornet, even though it was a rare chance they'd ever come through his town and jurisdiction. He had to see the two foreign cars only once on their race past the town's welcome sight to know trouble was afoot, and it was only after he had arrested them for speeding and reckless driving in city limits that he knew such simple offenses wouldn't be the only ones to keep the pair behind bars. And when he knew _who_ he had booked – their identities and the crime they wrought – there was one he was determined to tell first. That was how me came to meet Hudson's azure eyes with his own pair of cornflower-blue and said the words that the town's doctor had waited too long to hear.

"I found them."

Hudson's reaction to those three simple words was something near instant. The Mercury saw how every scrap of near-constant courage and conviction fell from the sleek blue car in every manner possible in ways that showed relief yet still that specter of sadness that had never fully left him. He sank down on his shocks as low as he had the first night after his wife's death, till the chrome trim along the lower edge of his body did not simply shadow the floor, but touched it. A quiet _clunk_ told of this.

His eyes closed and he sighed in a way that told similarly of the relieved yet still heavy heart behind it.

"Finally it's happened," he said. "Finally those damned punks are going to get _their_ sentence and harm no one else forever."


	44. Chapter 44

44~

To the county's jail the sheriff and the ex-racecar came, one who was intent on ensuring the prisoners never left their cells and the other intent on ensuring hell was given. After this much time went by, there was no way he was going to let these kids get off scot-free for taking from him and his daughter the one individual who had meant the world to them. Although he was gentle-tempered otherwise, an occasion like this meant he would let them have it in a way that he hoped would make them regret their crime.

The Porsche and the Bentley were staring at the ground in their cell when their company came. Ever since the sheriff had locked them up, they had spent hours cursing and arguing and blaming one another for this horrible mistake. If they had only kept a better eye on their gauges, they could have stopped at some station the night before and then slunk back out again into the gloom without anyone being able to catch them. They had done it for years now and probably would have for years more if _this_ hadn't happened. It made them both livid at their foolishness.

They heard the gears of their visitor's engine shift to park, the crank of the motor being turned off, and the silence afterward – heavy and deadly – interrupted only by the ticking of the same engine cooling down. Neither one of the prisoners was interested in seeing who was paying a call and continued staring at the cracks in the concrete floor beneath them. Not a word was spoken from any of them. It was a game of waiting, as dangerous feeling as a round of Russian roulette.

Finally the Bentley looked up, but slowly. Inch by gradual inch he turned his gaze away from the ground to the visitor who had angled his parked position as if for a reason, to show off something he wanted them to see. In stages the Bentley observed.

A chrome rocket emblem behind the front fender that read in red block letters _HORNET._

A gleaming gold wedding ring encircling his left front chrome rim. A married one, this visitor was.

A grille and front bumper that that was curved in a way that only meant a serious glare driven by anger.

And then the Bentley looked up all the way to meet a pair of strikingly blue eyes that locked instantly on his own. Fury lit them under their half-lidded shadow. When the Porsche rose to attention also, their visitor finally spoke.

"In case you're wondering who I am," he began in a level tone. "I'll tell you. I'm Cornelia Hornet's husband."

But they were not afraid.

"Were," the silver Porsche reminded. "You _were_ her husband, Pops."

Hudson's glare intensified further, if that was possible. "Are you messing with me?" he snapped in a dangerous tone. The two foreign autos wisely decided to not answer that question. Hudson did not wait for them to say anything to it. Instead, with his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the duo, he continued.

"Because of you both, the life I once had and the woman I loved are gone forever. From me you stole my wife and from my daughter you stole her mother. I cannot count how many days these past several years have been spent by both of us is sadness, and my girl wasn't the only one to cry. Believe it or not, if a man loses someone irreplaceable who he loves greatly, he _will_ cry also. Those who say men don't cry must be your type, those who'll never love another aside from themselves and therefore will have no one to lose, and you're such a selfish type, if you could attend your own funerals you would."

The biting words made the duo glare in turn but Hudson again didn't wait for them to reply.

"You don't know how many times – even now – I return home from my job and think that one day I'll find out all of this hell you've put my daughter and I through would be just a nightmare and I'd see my sweet, beautiful wife again. We sure hoped we'd be married a lot longer than just five years." he told.

Both Porsche and Bentley thought long and hard, not because they were sorry but because they wanted a properly stinging response in return to give the older car who had the nerve to be so callous to them.

Hudson looked down upon the pair, his eyes not losing their flame entirely but gaining the flicker of sorrow in them as well. "I suppose you know the details of your crime but it's worth reminding you anyway of one very important point." he went on. They looked at him, unblinking. In a different tone, something smacking more of defeat, he said, "My wife was pregnant."

The Porsche looked up, not out of sympathy but because he hadn't known this. Hudson met his eyes.

"You heard me. Both of you killed a harmless lady who was expecting not just one child, but _two._ How do I know that? Because _I_ am the town doctor and she was brought to me. I had to see not just any patient but my _wife_ – the love of my life and who would have been my lifelong mate – be brought in to my office. To _die_. I could do absolutely nothing to save her from the severe injuries you caused her to have because of your relentless want to attack her. Her most vital parts were broken beyond repair. As if this pain wasn't enough you caused her even more because she also suffered a miscarriage. That's how I know she was expecting twins. Because it was me to have the job in such a position, I had no choice but to see my youngest offspring enter this world too early and lifeless. I had to watch my wife die and despite my grief was forced – by law – to write the death certificates for _three_ members of my family. Do you think that isn't going to affect me for the rest of my life?" he asked with a bitter sorrow.

The prisoners looked to one another and then back to the older car whose eyes were faceted with less fury now and a simple and raw sort of pain. The Porsche couldn't even meet that gaze because he feared if he did, somewhere within him he'd feel some twinge of sympathy. He wasn't ready for that. It wasn't in his criminal mind to feel regret for any of his actions.

The Bentley's eyes fell onto the softly gleaming gold band bordering the long, blue car's front left rim. Hudson saw this and turned his front axle in a way that better showed off this article of interest. Sunlight from the small, barred window in the cell reflected onto the metal, making it shine blindingly. The duo squinted at this affront but the owner of the simple yet valued ring of gold did not flinch or make any effort to move position. He instead addressed their varying thoughts.

"I still wear that because of the dedication I will always have to my daughter's mother. Devotion like that is likely unthinkable to either of you, but if you had led clean lives and found someone to love; you too may have known that feeling. Just because I lost my mate doesn't mean I won't miss her and love her till I've driven my last mile. For what you've done, I hope you'll be in this jail till you rot."

He took a moment to reconsider and then added in a sharper tone, "It would be even better if you were here till the jail rots on top of you." The words were punctuated by the cranking over of his powerful engine. He fixed them both with a final blazing look before leaving the building.

Between the Bentley and Porsche, only a single sentence had been spoken.

. . . .

Hudson returned home tired. His anger had burnt out on the slow drive back to town and left only a shadow called dismay behind. How unfair life was. The criminals were locked up but still alive. Justice was served as well as it could be, yet time could not be reversed. Simply having to dredge up those horrible memories was enough to dishearten the indigo car. He was in no condition for small talk and so said nothing to anyone when he entered the city limits. When the double doors closed behind him at home, he looked to the wedding portrait of he and a vivacious Cornelia who had received her wish of becoming Mrs. Hornet on that long ago-seeming day in 1953. Her wish had been so easy to make come true, but his… the want to reverse time… he would never have it. His fondest dream was just impossible.

When Grace returned from work, she yearned to hear of her father's visit with her mother's killers, but when she saw the weariness not only in his eyes but in his general stance; she knew she'd have to wait. He would tell her when the time was right. Silently she pulled up beside him and with closed eyes, leaned up against his side with the sort of loving affection only a daughter could give her father.

Hudson felt wrong to accept it; after all, he was the parent and therefore should maintain a strong front for his child – no matter what – but at that moment he felt he couldn't fight the emotions he felt with a strength that'd be purely false. Seeing the smug and remorseless faces of his Cornelia's killers were worse than he ever could have dreamed. He couldn't be thankful enough for Grace.

"If every father could have someone like you for his daughter, he'd be the luckiest fellow alive." he finally said, breaking the silence albeit quietly. Grace opened her eyes to meet his. He sighed and slowly rose up straighter; the Cadillac sensing that maybe now she'd hear of the day and its trial.

"Seeing them was something I can't explain entirely, darling." he began, azure eyes leveled on his old state-issued license plate Cornelia had hung up as a "quirky decoration" what felt like a hundred years ago. "I think if someone looked under their hoods, they wouldn't see a motor – they'd see a block of ice that nothing could melt. I don't think they've ever known what it's like to love another. They don't know what it's like to have that one who they _know_ would be their lifelong mate. They couldn't even comprehend the idea of 'lifelong.' But, if someone looks, it's possible and they know there'll never be another after them."

Grace softly nuzzled the side of his scratched fender in an affection he instinctually returned to his child. "I'm sorry for airing everything to you, darling," he apologized.

"Don't be," she begged. "Sometimes I just feel so upset and angry and confused… I don't even know _how_ to say what I feel."

"I hardly know either, Grace. I'm just saying what comes to mind first. When I went there, I had to introduce myself because they didn't know who I was. Not that that is bad, but it's what happened after I told them about my being your mother's husband that made it awful. What they said isn't something I'll likely forget soon."

"What did they say?" she softly asked. Hudson sighed.

"'You _were_ her husband,' they said. _Were._ Our union was referred to as the past. Even though part of that is true, it isn't all the way. That would be like her no longer being your mother since she's gone. It isn't true. I will always consider myself married to her."

The Cadillac nodded. Although her mother had taught her never to hate, she was sure the only feeling she had towards a certain Porsche and Bentley _was_ hatred. How could she feel less? She looked over to her father again.

"Would you like to take a drive with me, Daddy?" she ventured. "I know it's getting late, but the moon is nearly full and everything looks so pretty. Maybe we could forget about today – for a while?"

A gentle smile softly curved his front bumper. "You know just the perfect thing, darling. I'd be plenty glad to join you."

The night _was_ beautiful as the seafoam-green Cadillac had told. Moonlight softly gilt the peaks of the mountains and threw a general pale light onto the desert, making it surreal and wonderful in a way opposing to its sun-struck red-orange commonness. It streaked reflections onto their paintwork and their chrome. Really, it seemed a pity to have their headlights on for safety's sake. Their yellow glow contrasted sharply with the soft blue evening splendor.

Their trip was spent in silence, both understanding not to break the enchantment of this sort of night which was timeless in many ways, belonging to any year past or future. They both could venture to forget the occurrences of the day, the faces seen, and the words spoken. They could either trick their minds into believing it was either all a nightmare to awake from, or try to reassure their selves that all the years before them may somehow get a little easier.

The evening drive finally drew to a halt at an overlook point on the side of the road. Unanimously they cranked off their engines and turned their headlights off. The glow from the moon took over entirely now in a way comforting and beautiful. Somewhere in the far distance the sparkle of lights from cars traveling on the Interstate flashed and twinkled, though they did little to match the glimmer of the multitude of stars up above. The road they had traveled upon was empty and silence reigned the night aside from the chirpings of crickets. Grace broke through that with her soft and sweet voice, so like her mother's in tone and certain inflections.

"Tell me a story," she asked her father. It didn't matter to her if the words sounded foolish when said by a grown woman. In truth, you never got too old to hear one. Her father cleared his throat and replied, "What do you want to hear?"

She looked over at him. His eyes were a darker shade of blue in the low light, but still held that loving light she had felt comfort in ever since she was small. "Tell me about some time when I was little." she offered.

A smile near-instantly curved his front bumper at that. "Do you remember," he began, "what your favorite game to play was when I'd come back from work?"

She laughed and said, "I'm not sure if I do. Remind me."

He obliged her. "Once you got bigger and had more coordination, you absolutely loved ambushing me the moment the door closed behind me."

Grace suddenly felt recognition click in her mind. "Oh! I remember now! I'd pounce on you and was _so_ strong, I could actually push you backwards!" she giggled.

Hudson nodded in agreement. "A very strong girl indeed. I doubt too many youngsters as small as you were at that time could succeed in pushing a nearly 4,000 pound car." he chuckled, giving her a knowing wink which she returned.

"I actually _did_ think I was that strong though, then. I never realized you went with it on purpose." she reminisced.

"That's what a parent is supposed to do for their child in some kinds of play," he considered. "Or, at least I _guess_. I never figured I'd be a very decent parent, to be honest."

"I don't know anything else, and I'm perfectly happy with what I have." she told him.

He leaned over her way and softly nuzzled her. "I'm glad you are. When I was younger, I never really thought I'd find someone to marry, and I really didn't think I'd ever have any children. I never saw myself as being good. I admit when you were born I had my doubts."

She smiled warmly and asked, "Was I a troublesome baby for you and Mama?"

He straightened and shook his hood for a no. "I'm sure a lot of fathers would like to contend the idea, but you were honestly a pretty perfect child just like you've grown into being a perfect lady."

"Perfect…?!" she exclaimed. "I don't think _perfect_ exists." He returned her earlier smile.

"Perfection exists, but it's rare. That's why folks think it's impossible. It's found though in you just like it was in your mother. I don't know what I ever did to get so lucky, having such two wonderful ladies in my life, but I'm not going to argue. I'm grateful that a vibrant girl like you doesn't mind taking a drive with her father still."

Grace looked up the stars once more. Some customer who had come into the V8 recently had told her that the glow of the celestial beauties were the headlights of all those who went before. In the legend she found comfort.

"I'll never mind taking a drive with the only parent I have left. No matter how old I get, I will never pass up a chance to be with my daddy." she softly murmured.


	45. Chapter 45

45~

Across the borders in another town the lives of Mary Ellen and Charles Eldorado went along in their respective fashions. The tragic death of their daughter had brought them closer as husband and wife and ever since that fateful year, Charles hadn't again engaged in any extra-marital affair. This ended up upsetting Margot and the likes of her, but he had made that decision and was keeping it.

Of course, Charles _was_ still Charles, and he still could be quite egotistical, blunt, and an all around loudmouth. No place experienced this Mr. Eldorado better than The Chrome Cabaret. He still fancied a strong drink with "the boys" even now when _The Classy Cord_ had finally gone off of TV. A shadowy bar, a good bit of guy-talk and the camaraderie he had with fellow Cadillac Harlan was too great to leave behind. Not to mention, he could still at least _look_ at some of the girls. Just because he was on diet didn't mean he couldn't look at the menu, so to say.

It was this day that he had brought interesting news to share with the bartender though.

"Your average, Chuck?" Harlan asked when the sparkling metal-flaked gold Cadillac pulled up. Charles didn't conceal his displeasure.

"The answer is yes, but if you call me that one more time, you can say farewell to my business." he warned. Harlan gave his friend his drink and answered, "Empty threat, Charles. The Cabaret is the only place for you."

"True, but don't act like an idiot either." the gold car said before tossing off nearly half his drink in a single swig. Harlan assisted another customer before eventually gravitating back to the oft-rude larger-than-life car who somehow always remained his best friend. The gold Cadillac finished his beverage, leveled his topaz eyes on the silver one before him and said, "I've got news, friend."

Harlan was unsure what this would entail so kept his voice even in reply. "Do you now?"

Charles nodded his long hood, causing the "Flying Lady" ornament on the end to catch the yellowish light from a lamp nearby. The finely polished chrome sparkled dazzlingly. "My daughter's killers were found and locked up." he said. A female patron nearby gasped at the not exactly quiet words he had said. The gold car didn't react. Harlan refilled his friend's drink.

"I'm glad they've been caught but it's a shame that this can't bring Cornelia back." he said. Charles sighed harshly and answered, "You don't think I wish that every day? I've been a damned horrible husband to my wife and not nearly as good as I could have been to my daughter, but I still wish I had another chance. I came to my senses too late. I've mind to drive out to that jail and give those asshats a piece of my mind."

"Well, why don't you?" Harlan inquired. Charles tipped back his drink before answering.

"Because," he began, setting the glass down sharply. "If I went out there, I'd likely find a way to maim one or both of those ignorant damned-to-hell criminals."

"What's so bad about that?"

Charles fixed Harlan with a strict look the lesser would flinch under. "I'd be thrown in a cell too, that's what! I'd be an inmate also and I don't exactly find delight in that. For three reasons."

Harlan gave him an encouraging look, not that Charles needed one. "One, a car that looks like me does _not_ belong in a disgusting cell. Two, I do _not_ want to be cellmates with the shitters that killed my daughter. Three…" He let the word hang in the air.

"Yes…?" Harlan asked, feeling slightly confused, just _slightly_. The infamous smirk curved across Charles's gleaming front bumper.

"Three…" he continued in a tone that made a newly arrived female nearby look up. "I couldn't be all by my _lonesome_ for a very certain reason. After all, one of the easiest ways – if not _the_ easiest way – to my heart is from the undercarriage." Harlan couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're unbelievable, Charles." he said. Nearby, the attention-caught lady – a slim Pierce Arrow – casually came up to Charles and asked in a seductive tone, "What's shakin', sailor?"

The big Cadillac rolled his eyes and said, "How about the ice-cubes in my glass?" She made a sound of disgust and answered, "I was hoping for a more interesting reply than _that._ "

"Sorry. I'm only a wordsmith when it comes to cussing." he said. She rolled her eyes as well. Two could play at that game. She decided a different approach that she was sure he'd react to. Leaning up against his sparkling gold side, she murmured, "Hey friend… I need a little _help._ "

"Don't we all," the Cadillac said, accepting his refilled drink. The Pierce Arrow took a deep breath and continued, "I'm looking for a man who knows his ways around balls, sailor."

Charles took an unhurried sip of his drink and replied when he set it down, "Well, I certainly know my way but I'm completely unavailable."

Her eyes widened. "But… aren't you the man who always was looking for a good time? Aren't you the infamous Mr. Charles 'Helldorado?'" He flashed his amber gaze onto her.

"I was. I traded my ways when my daughter was killed and it's a damned shame it took me that long also. I've got a wife and everything I need. Nice seeing you now." he answered and didn't give her a second look. Her mouth fell open at this unexpected affront. She decided to try one more tactic.

"You're the most handsome man I've ever seen, sailor." she claimed, meaning every word. He turned away from his drink to flash her his dangerously charming smile.

"Thanks a lot; I'm quite aware." he chuckled, giving her his well-known wink which in this case meant simply nothing. She glared. Never had she seen a man so unappreciative towards her fawning.

. . . .

Charles spent some time at the bar having a nice talk with Harlan before returning home after having what to any other car would be 5 drinks too many. The Cadillac though never seemed to get drunk. Harlan had to be a responsible tender to any of his guests for safety's sake, but it never seemed like his friend could ever hit his limit. If he showed any drunkenness at all, it must have been simply his fonder usage of coarse language. His repertoire of cuss words was pretty wide and would certainly come out when he was orating about a tense subject, such as his daughter's killers. He managed to say words that evening that even a few of the barflies winced at. But, as he himself said to Harlan's mild warning, "I don't give a microscopic shit."

The gold Cadillac returned home an hour before evening set in and was met at the door by his wife. "I was hoping you'd be home soon, Charley." she said.

She would always remain the only one who could call him that.

"Hoping I'd be home, huh?" he asked, pushing the door shut with his rear bumper. "Don't tell me the sink is clogged again. I'm not handling that slop."

She laughed lightly and answered, "No Charley, the sink isn't clogged and even if it were, I'd have called the plumber by now."

"I don't like that guy…" Charles grumbled.

"Just because he's Italian doesn't mean he's bad, you know. You have to stop being so hard on other nationalities."

"He has shifty eyes and is crass as all hell." he mildly argued. Mary Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Look in the mirror, Mr. Eldorado. You're a little crass also, you know. And you know something else?" she asked. Charles knew there was no quarrelling now.

"What, dear one?" he asked, deadpan. She locked her eyes on his from where they looked out over what she called his "banquet table-sized hood."

"The Italian plumber may not like you either, you know. He may think you're a shifty American."

Charles stared at her and watched as a smile slowly grew across her face. He narrowed his eyes in mostly mock disgust.

"I need another drink," he griped.


	46. Chapter 46

46~

Hudson watched life as he knew it change more in the passage of time. He had feared the Interstate would bring questionable change and was disappointed to see it become realized. Flo had imagined more folks would flock to her Café when actually less were in order, and less seemed to come every month. Hudson began having fewer patients at his clinic. Ramone had fewer customers for a new paint job. Mr. Springson had fewer lodgers at the Cozy Cone. Even the promise of the motel's famous High Performance Float became less tempting. Hudson witnessed what he felt to be the beginning of the end when he saw the first shop on Main Street close. Not long after, Vaughn Randolph Brakewell (the Third), baron of The Golden Grille, packed up and left also. Although the town doctor hadn't formed any amicable relations with the Duesenberg, he had remained one of the last ties to his wife, and he never would forget that look of awe in her bright green eyes the day she had received her gold-plated hood ornament. Now he found it was easier to look away when the empty storefront confronted him.

It was Grace who voted for a different sort of change, for herself and for her father if he was willing. The fact he had fewer folk calling at his business seemed to be as good of a time as any for the opportunity. It was one day when she came home from the V8 that she voiced her thoughts.

"I've been thinking about something that maybe you'll want to participate in, Daddy." she began. He turned his attention away from that day's copy of the newspaper, giving his daughter an encouraging look which she took to continue. "So much has happened since Mama died and a lot of that has been upsetting. We've not had a chance to go anywhere other than our weekend drives around the county and… I was just wondering, do you think you'd like to join me on a trip to see Mama's folks? I don't know my grandparents much at all aside from that visit they took here and I'd like to learn more about them. They're all I have of her still alive, and I don't want to miss out on knowing them. I was thinking of going on my own if you didn't want to go."

Something akin to horror wrapped it's tendrils about the older car's heart. The idea of letting his daughter go on a road trip, following the same route as her mother, his wife, did was nearly unthinkable when the undeniable truth was known that she'd drive over the same stretch of blacktop Cornelia had her fateful accident on. So the Porsche and Bentley were locked up, but there could be more like them. His trust in any other travelers had waned considerably, especially those that travelled amid his only remaining child. The words came before he even had time to think.

"If you're going, I'm going with you." he told her, firm. Any other Grace's age may have argued; after all, she was an adult and such a reaction could have even been seen as distrusting or too clingy, but the young Cadillac hadn't that mentality. She understood her father's vehemence on this. She understood his fear. She knew his immediate thought would be her going on her own, promising a return and it never happening as it should have on that long ago day in 1959 with her mother. And, honestly, she was glad to have his company.

"I'm glad you agree to come. I was hoping you'd say that." she told him, softly smiling.

. . . .

Hudson closed down the Ornament Valley Clinic for a full week and left instructions with the tow truck Mater that if anyone was in straits or simply needed their sparkplugs changed, to tow them to Torqueville, the next closest town in the county. Flo wished Grace the best time with her relatives and assured her the Café would be okay without her, although her combined help made it the best. By the time the next day rolled around, the pair was on the road as the sunrise fell upon the desert landscape, tinting the mountains red.

Unknowingly they retraced the path of Cornelia on her last trip and silently drove past the spot where the jade-green Cadillac had come to rest after being thrown across the asphalt too many painful times. Grace was unsure of where exactly this had happened and although Hudson knew he did not yet tell her. Maybe on the way home he would. There was no sense ruining the vacation before it even began.

They stayed at the Thunderbird Motel the same as Cornelia had – maybe even in the same room. Neither could ever know for sure. They drove all that day and arrived at their destination late afternoon, early evening. Radiator Springs now lay twelve hours behind them. They lodged at the available hotel in the small city and faced their destination the next day, the objective scrawled out lightly on an address Grace had found with her mother's possessions.

Slowly, slowly a seafoam-green Cadillac trailed very closely by a dark blue Hudson drove up the street leading to one home in particular, a clapboard residence painted white and trimmed in front by a dry looking lawn. Grace felt nervous and even unsure if this motive had been right, but had no choice now. They both drew to a halt before the home before the younger car took a deep breath and said, "I hope this was the right thing." Not waiting for her father's response, she came up the door and knocked twice. From where he sat, Hudson relived the day in 1953 when his then-fiancée had been in the same place. She too had been nervous to face her imposing father's words. He had waited politely to the side until the time had become right for him to join her. The parallel was uncanny.

The door swung open after a fashion, but it wasn't the 1930's car who opened the door. Instead it was his wife. Only a flicker of confusion passed her gaze before a welcoming smile decorated her face. "Grace! Is it really _you_ I'm seeing?" she asked.

The younger Cadillac couldn't help but return her grandmother's sweet smile. "It really is." she said.

"I can't believe you came all this way! If I had known you were coming, I would have spruced up the place a little more. All I was expecting was the plumber today! I just am so glad to see you, honey!" she exclaimed before giving her granddaughter a kiss. When she looked up again her eyes landed on the silent blue car.

"Well, if it isn't the old racecar too. What are you doing waiting out there? Come in, please." she told him. He politely dipped his hood to her and answered just as kindly, "Thank you, Mary Ellen. I hope we didn't come at a bad time."

The pale yellow Cadillac smiled softly and answered, "So much has changed, as we all know. There's no bad time for me to have the company of the ones my sweet daughter loved."  
. . . .

Grace was assisting Mary Ellen later that day when the kitchen door swung open and the long form of a golden car with black fenders pulled through, carrying his thoughts in a one sided conversation.

"I went down to the office of that rusty-bumpered idiot and he wasn't there. I told you that Italian plumber was shifty, Mary Ellen. His secretary just sits there and asks if I want to leave a message for him. I said I sure as hell did and that it should say 'You're the dumbest sucker I've ever thrown my money at,' but I doubt she wrote it. Too bad. The dick ought to see what paying folks think about him. She says he's probably out on a 'really important' job, but I imagine that isn't it at all. He's probably at some shack sucking on wine and telling romantic tales about Brussels."

"Brussels is in Belgium, not Italy, Granddad." Grace pointed out. Charles was so used to answering his wife that he didn't even think about it for a moment. And then it hit him.

"'Granddad'?! I had no idea my little girl was paying a visit!" he exclaimed. Grace pulled out from the other side of Mary Ellen and faced the big '30s car with a funny smile.

"I came today," she informed and then gave him a kiss on the side of one of his ebony front fenders. Charles may have been coarse but still had some standards around his daughter and now his only remaining granddaughter and so was honestly regretful.

"I had no idea you were here, honey. I would have watched my language if I had known." he apologized.

"You should be sorry, Charley. I don't enjoy hearing your ranting all the time also you know." Mary Ellen chimed in with a smile to her husband.

"Alright fine. I'll try to be civil the rest of the evening." he told her.

"Let's see that you can be. First test is that you're going to clean the sink since the 'rusty-bumpered' plumber didn't come. It's not going to fix itself." she dictated.

Charles glared. "Do _I_ look like I know two bits about pipes and P-traps to you? I'm a Cadillac with gold metal-flake paint for Chrysler's sake! Do you think I want that cloggy shit all over my chrome rims? Do I have 'Mobile Plumbing' written across my trunk with a phone number?"

Grace found herself unable to not laugh. Even though she felt guilty for deriving humor from coarse behavior, she couldn't help herself. Her grandfather was funny. Mary Ellen rolled her eyes.

"I thought you said you were going to try to be civil for our granddaughter, Charles." she said. He narrowed his eyes at this realization.

"I did say that, didn't I?" he grumbled.

When Charles got the sink mess out of the way and whatever else he found he needed to do done in the coming day, on his free moment he pulled Hudson aside and said, "I've got a plan for me and you, friend."

The indigo car was rather questioning of what his undeniably crass father-in-law would say but politeness was his first response to anything.

"I'd like to hear," he offered, even though he was unsure if he actually _did_.

Charles smiled in a conspiratorial way and replied, "Why don't you join me at the Cabaret?"

Confusion found Hudson. "I don't follow. What's the Cabaret?" he asked.

. . . .

" _This_ is the Cabaret!" the golden Cadillac announced as he cruised elegantly into the shadowy bar. Hudson was instantly nonplussed. It wasn't just the bar – it was the patrons in it. The women sitting together at one table looked up at their arrival with hungry eyes, with expressions whose meaning he was very aware of. He overheard their whisperings which confirmed it.

"That blue one. Isn't he a looker? I've not seen such a sleek and classy chassis in years."

"He certainly makes my motor _purr._ "

Hudson looked over at his totally at ease father-in-law. "I'm not really the bar type, to be honest." he tried.

Charles rolled his eyes and said, "You never know if you're truly a _bar type_ till you try it. Come on over and meet Harlan now. He's a man's man, aren't you Harlan?" They silver Cadillac came to his friend from across the bar and answered, "I try my best to be, friend. Who's the company tonight?"

"This is my son-in-law, Hudson." Charles answered for the blue car. Harlan nodded his acknowledgment to a new arrival and then replied, "I'm sorry about your wife, Hud. She was a good lady."

"She certainly was," he answered. Charles nodded.

"The best there was. Tonight isn't a time to dwell in depression though. Get me either a vodka or a whiskey now, friend. Whatever comes first, I'll gladly take."

"On the rocks?" the tender asked.

"Well, I sure as hell don't want warm booze." Charles scoffed. Harlan turned to Hudson.

"And what do you want, pal?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm not a drinker." he answered. Charles chuckled.

"You mean you've never drank or you can't hold your alcohol?" he asked. "Do you get three sheets to the wind after just one glass?"

Hudson shrugged and answered politely, "I'm just not fond of it all that much."

"Huh," Charles grunted, and tipped back a quarter of his whiskey before they settled at a table. When he set the glass down he said, "I've enjoyed the liquor ever since I was a young buck. Got my first drink when I was dating this woman and never fell out of love with the flavor or the after-effect. Liquor can do wonders to warm the engine on those cold winter days and liquor also does wonders when it comes to engaging with a woman. Those aren't just fiddly fireworks you get with booze – you get damned explosions, lemme tell ya."

Hudson shifted uncomfortably at this personal news and was about ready to open his mouth to change the subject when Charles cut him off.

"If you have a glass or 4 of the good stuff and then have some loving with a woman, you don't just hit the ceiling. You go to damned space and orbit with the comets. About thirteen years ago, I picked up this girl. She was another Cadillac, if I remember right. I have a very certain fondness for my type. Anyway, I have my drinks and she comes up and asks if I was looking for a good time. Hell yeah, I always was. I wouldn't say no to that when a gorgeous Caddy asked me. She probably saw me as some pretty fine stock, if you get my drift."

Hudson cleared his throat uneasily. Charles noticed.

"You need a drink, friend. The story is a whole lot better with one. Harlan! Get my son-in-law a vodka and tonic. And yeah, on the rocks." he called out to the tender before returning to his story.

"So, this woman wins me over and the moment I finish my drink we find ourselves in this hostel I was very fond of frequenting for those purposes. Discreet, unknown and unassuming. The best."

Harlan deposited the asked for to Hudson who eyed it with disinterest. Would drinking it actually make the horrible story his father-in-law was telling better? He rather doubted it.

"Drink up, kid. No one makes a vodka and tonic like Harlan. Anyhow! This babe was an absolute delight. She didn't even want all of the 'extras,' all she wanted was to get down to business. Given I was still an older car than her, this was pretty damned thrilling. I gave her my best, let me tell you. I may be impotent when it comes to not ever having another child but I'm no floppy noodle either. Mister Charles Eldorado is not a milksop when it comes to that talent. I need a refill, Harlan!" he stated, summoning the silver car once more. Once he came and left yet again, Charles tipped back another tenth of his whiskey. Despite being a fellow male, Hudson was disturbed by his father-in-law's deep desire to share so much and eventually partook of his vodka and tonic. Maybe he'd find the tale easier to cope with it after all.

Charles smiled cunningly and went on, "It's honestly a good thing I went as sterile as a damned rubber glove after my sweet daughter was born, because if I hadn't there'd be way too many telling reminders of my forays. I'm not exactly an inconspicuous car and if the population of Cadillacs went up in my town, all suspicions would point to me. I'm infamous, as the ladies say. That's how I got the nickname of 'Mr. Helldorado.' But, back to my story, this girl was first rate. She would have been without me having 5 drinks before that, but she was a thousand times more amazing after. I think I had to pay a fine to the hostel after that…. if I remember right I believe I broke the nightstand or something." He took another swig of his drink.

"Yeah, it was the nightstand. I hit it with my bumper when I dismounted that fine pony."

Hudson straightened up and interjected, "Excuse me; I think I need another drink."

Charles waved him down and answered, "Don't worry about it. Harlan will get one for you, WON'T YOU HARLAN?!" he yelled out. The tender materialized instantly and did as asked, topping off the Cadillac's as well. "Thanks a bunch, brother. But, as I was saying, I broke the nightstand. It crunched in on the side because it was made out of some cheap shit wood product. They made me pay for the garbage simply because I had a good time. I thought that was wrong but didn't argue. I wanted to stay on good terms with the innkeeper because I enjoyed that place a lot for my purposes. After that I just made sure I wasn't in front of any furniture. Easy solution." he told nonchalantly.

Hudson wasn't enjoying the story any more, but the drink assisted him in being sensible in talk. "I'm assuming that was just one little time you… went astray?" he offered.

Charles laughed. "One time out of many, son. I didn't get the title of Mr. Helldorado for simply going astray a few times."

"Oh," Hudson answered. Charles pulled his infamously cunning smile again.

"I have _dozens_ of stories to tell you."


	47. Chapter 47

47~

While Charles entertained Hudson at The Chrome Cabaret, Grace spent time with Mary Ellen, learning not only more about her grandparents but more about her mother as well. She heard and saw things that tried her sorrows but did not regret this. Remembrances with her mother were a bittersweet sort of thing, and as sad as they were there was also a facet of those truths that made her happy as well.

The room Grace had been assigned to had been her mother's and Mary Ellen told her of the times when her daughter had been the youngest Cadillac's age. "She became enamored with the sport of racing when she was young and had pictures pinned up on the wall. When she moved out though, she removed all of them – except one." Mary Ellen had told and motioned with her hood to the faded newspaper article in a dusty frame. Grace had slowly driven up to look at it, although its message and photo she knew well, having seen them across the borders when she was a girl. Despite this though, she gazed up at the yellowed image of the younger car she knew as her father underneath the headline "HUD DOES IT AGAIN – TWO TIME PISTON CUP WINNER".

The last time she had seen that same copy of _The Daily Exhaust_ was when she had been awaiting her mother's return in 1959 – a return that became a terrible ending. The seafoam-green Cadillac felt the sting of tears in her eyes at this parallel and blinked furiously to dispel them. She had cried too much already.

Now on this day Mary Ellen had abandoned the television (as she would say, nothing was ever as good as _The Classy Cord_ anyhow) to set aside time with her only granddaughter to tell her stories and show her a few more images of Cornelia in her younger days. Grace motioned to one photo in the black paper album of her mother (who looked quite perturbed) parked alongside a dark colored male car.

"Who's that?" she asked. Mary Ellen couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh that! That's Clive Treadwell. He had affections for your mother and I admit I'm guilty of trying to get her to be with him also."

"She doesn't look very happy." Grace noted, looking at the expression of her mother's eyes from under their sweeping shadow.

"She wasn't… she never did like him. I think we all realized that they'd never be together. He never did marry. He's still here in town. Apparently he met with your mother on her first day here on her trip and they formed an understanding and could part amicably, but once he learned of her passing… he's never really gotten over it."

Grace nodded, not wanting to speak and chance anymore tears. Mary Ellen as a mother could notice the girl's reaction and leaned over to give her a comforting nuzzle, the type only a female could offer. Grace lost her fight and sobbed, "I miss her so much! I keep hoping, even after all these years, that it's just a bad dream! Why my mama?!"

"Your grandfather and I have wondered the same too many times, honey." Mary Ellen softly told her. "But, she isn't gone forever. She lives on in you. You are more like her than you can know, though. You have her sweetness, her thoughtfulness and most of all, darling? You have her heart."

. . . .

By the time Hudson had his second vodka and tonic (admittedly not even enjoying it), Charles was on his fifth whiskey and showed no signs of being inebriated, aside from profuse usage of language and detail. He was running on a full head of steam and there seemed to be no end in sight.

"You a smoker, Hudson?" the Cadillac asked, fixing his clear topaz gaze on the younger car.

"No, no. That never interested me." he replied. Charles nodded.

"That's one thing I can agree on. Back when I was younger I lit up every so often, but it never worked for me. I hated the stench that'd cling to me like a shadow. I had to wear so damned much cologne; even the women turned the other way. The girls were what I wanted, so that sure as shit wasn't going to fly with me. I tossed the fags in the trash, took up my liquor, wore a sensible amount of fragrance and never looked back."

The words were punctuated by him tossing back the rest of his drink and setting the thick glass down with a clatter. He offered his trademark half smirk/half smile to Hudson. One of the earlier whispering girls snuck a look at him. Despite his coarse behavior, Charles stayed a dangerously handsome auto. His metal-flake paint sparkled dazzlingly in the scattered lamps nearby.

Hudson cleared his throat and started, "Well… how did you ever decide to get married if you enjoyed, well… your affairs?"

"Oh, now that's a good story." Charles approved. "Well, to be honest, one thing convinced me to get married to one woman: I wanted a kid. Doesn't seem to fit my persona, I know, but I did want a child. I met Mary Ellen at this café, I think. Yes, it had to be a café. She hasn't had a drop of liquor in her whole life, so I definitely wouldn't have made her acquaintance at a bar. She was too wholesome for that. So, I met her at this place. I forget what it's called. I thought it was Turbo something-or-other. Don't ask me. Anyhow, I noticed her in the window at a table when I drove by. Something about her caught my eye. It might have been her color or it may have been her pleasing curves. I think it was both. Well, I stopped right in my tracks and decided to go on in.

"I drive right up to her and say, 'How's it goin, sugar? You look like you could use some company'. Damned waiter came by and told me to mind my business and not mess with the customers. I about crushed him like a tin can. No one tells me when I can't look at a pretty lady. Mary Ellen, bless her, told him that all was fine and so welcomed me to join her. She later told me that she should have run the other way because of my reputation and how I threw myself upon her. It went against her rules when it came to dating, I guess. Her dad was stuck back in Hooterville and thought I was trouble also."

"Well, you certainly sound troublesome," a girl purred as she came up to the big Cadillac and rubbed up alongside him like a too-friendly cat. Hudson was positively appalled. Charles gave the girl a little smile and answered, "Thanks, but I'm not available anymore. Nice seeing you."

She reacted with shock but eventually retreated. Charles continued his loudly broadcasted story as if nothing had ever happened.

"We get married and live it up like every other idiot rolling around wishes they could live it up. I lodged in a _nice_ hotel and treated that girl to The Best of Charles Eldorado. I didn't just break a nightstand this time. No sir, I broke the closet door. I also dented the wall. The fact I scuffed my bumper _and_ had to pay a fine on top of that pissed me off pretty royally but I was still on enough of a 'honeymoon high' to wave it off, for the most part. Mary Ellen may have been worried about how I threw myself upon her at the café, but that was nothing compared to how I threw myself upon her in that swanky room. She complained about how I was too heavy, but what can I say? I'm no dinky car."

Charles picked up his cup and inspected the melting ice-cubes as if they were fine chunks of crystal. "It's absolutely wonderful having another guy to talk to about this kind of stuff." he said to Hudson, who could do nothing but disagree. In his opinion, personal talk remained personal and only spoken about in private. He couldn't even _begin_ to imagine orating about those intimate moments with Cornelia to anyone, but especially not at a loud tone in a bar. In his thinking, it was pretty close to being blasphemous.

He looked at the elder Eldorado with something like mixed disgust. Given how dedicated Hudson was to Cornelia, Charles couldn't be more opposite to him. He was once the most unfaithful husband the indigo car could imagine. The younger car had never even been tempted to _look_ at another woman longingly during his marriage to Cornelia, and he certainly never got so bored he had to engage in a "little extra" with someone else. He took the definition of "devoted" and lived by it to the letter. So true to this he was that despite his unquestionable loneliness at times, he was definite about never having another mate.

Charles threw his glass back down and said, "Well, I don't know about you but I think I'm ready to head on back home."

"I'm ready." Hudson quickly answered. _I've been ready_ , he added in thought.

"Good, good. Hold on a sec and let me throw some money at Harlan and I'll be ready in a few." he said and casually moved away from the table to go meet up with the tender. He had a short chat with him before joining his son-in-law once more. When they were outside of the Cabaret in a now dusky evening, the old Cadillac turned to Hudson and said something the younger car couldn't oppose more.

"We oughta do this again. You make one hell of a drinking partner."


	48. Chapter 48

48~

Charles returned home scented with an oppressive combo of liquor and his typical cologne, a duo that Mary Ellen was used to but made Grace stifle a cough as he pulled near. He leaned over to kiss his wife on the side of her fender and said, "What have I missed, girls?"

She kissed her husband in return and answered, "Nothing too crazy, Charley. I hope you didn't take Grace's father to your club."

"He did," Hudson answered when he pulled into the room as well. Grace lit up and flashed him a gladsome smile which he returned. Mary Ellen turned on her husband.

"Charles Eldorado! I can't believe you." she tsked. The big Cadillac casually shrugged and replied, "We had a fine time, darling."

"I hope you at least managed to be civil for our granddaughter's father."

"Define 'civil'. I am who I am, Mary Ellen." he complacently answered. The pale-yellow Cadillac groaned. Charles either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I'm going to go watch TV for a few. If you need me you know where I am." Without waiting for any answers he slowly drove past the three other cars. Grace watched him pass before her, and found herself agreeing with what her grandmother said. Her grandfather really did have a "banquet table-sized" hood. That wasn't too far-fetched at all.

Mary Ellen looked to Hudson once Charles was gone and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about Charley's ways. He loves the Cabaret and… he also loves his alcohol. I hope things weren't too bad. I know how crass he can be."

Hudson could see and understand how Mary Ellen had to cope with her very opposite husband but chose to remain a gentleman and not add to any worries she had. "It was fine," he assured her with his charismatic smile. The light-yellow Cadillac sighed in relief.

"Good. I am very glad."

. . . .

Charles finished off his evening with a quart of oil before retiring to bed with his wife who had been there already for a spell, reading.

"Those shitters lost the game," he griped as he carefully pulled up beside Mary Ellen in their room. "Damned idiots are always throwing the effing ball wrong. No one knows how to throw balls anymore, I swear to Chrysler. I know you're too young to know this, but back when I was a young buck in '39, ball throwing was an art. Back then everything was all American and you didn't have these foreigners in the league trying to act like hot shots when you just _know_ all they're trying to do is gain glory for the homeland and steal all of our money. No one threw balls like that team I supported back in 1939 did. The Springville Hotwheels knew their stuff."

"Yes dear," Mary Ellen acknowledged, turning a page in her magazine. Charles sank down on his shocks and muttered something under his breath before starting up again.

"They were just a few points away from glory and then that new dick on the block had to try something new and 'wonderful' which jeopardized the whole team's chance of winning. The moment that kid pulled that stupid move, I wanted to break through the television, pin that scrawny idiot down and give him a piece of my mind. For Ford's sake, what's his problem? He should have known not to be such a smarty, the lemon."

"Yes dear," his wife replied. Charles stared out the window on the opposite wall, organizing his thoughts as he gazed.

"You know, all this talk about ball throwing has gotten me to thinking and –"

Mary Ellen finally looked away from her magazine and interjected her husband. "Don't even go there, Charles. For goodness sake, I know you have more class than that when your son-in-law and granddaughter are in the very same house."

He leaned over to kiss the side of her fender and assured, "I was only _thinking_ , Mary Ellen. Thinking and acting are two entirely different things."

"Well, thank goodness for some small miracles," she said, kissing him in return before leaning over to shut off the light.

. . . .

Grace sat in her designated room – the room that was her mother's so long ago – unable to sleep. Although a grown woman now, she still was haunted by the memories of her own childhood that cropped up when her grandmother had told her about Cornelia when she was a girl also. Learning of her mother's past was a beautiful opportunity but a tough one as well. Every little thing she learned dredged up the last day she had ever seen her in what felt like a century ago. Finally, knowing sleep wouldn't come and staring at the wall wouldn't help her any, she decided to find her father.

He was awake as well, unable to sleep for a different reason this time. The combination of both Charles Eldorado's brazen ways and the two vodka and tonics he had consumed in hopes his father-in-law's tale would get a little easier to handle had both torn away any chance of sleep. He was pretty sure that the last time he'd ever consumed any alcohol was at his wedding over 15 years before, and that was only a single toast. Cornelia herself hadn't even enjoyed it, so dropping the potential habit had been very easy and he hadn't missed a thing. So, ever since he had retired for the night he had whiled away the hours by skimming through some of the reading material in the Eldorado's possession that looked as if it hadn't been touched in a long time.

It came as a shock to him when he happened to look over and see the profile of his daughter slowly enter the room. She stopped when she met his eyes. "Hello Daddy," she murmured. "Can I join you?"

He offered her a gentle smile. "Of course you can, darling. You don't have to ask me that." he promised and motioned for her to join him by his side. She smile back and quietly rolled over to pull up next to him. "I couldn't sleep…" she sighed.

"If it comes as any comfort, I can't either." he said and then added, "I guess you probably could see that though."

"That makes two of us," she told him and then asked, "What did you and Grandfather do today?"

He cast a disinterested eye to the magazine he had been looking at and then turned his attention to her. "Well, he took me to his favorite club here in town."

"I didn't think you liked places like that." she pointed out.

"I don't, but being kind sometimes has to go before what you like. It was a… interesting… afternoon. What all did you do today?" he inquired, shifting her attention from potentially asking anything about her grandfather that he'd have to find a decent way to answer, sugarcoating the very obvious bad points about the older car.

She settled down low on her shocks and replied, "I spent the day with Grandma here; I help her out with different things and she's been telling me about Mama. It's been hard for me…" she sighed softly.

He gave her a comforting nuzzle and said, "I know, darling." She willingly accepted his affection, grateful to have one parent left whom she felt loved and consoled by always, no matter what.

"It's strange thinking of her, growing up in this very house and in the very room they're letting me stay in. It's strange knowing that so many things haven't changed… that that gentleman who liked her is still here."

"A Mr. Treadwell?" he asked, remembering how Cornelia never once referred to him by anything else than the formal address. Grace nodded.

"Clive Treadwell. Did she tell you about him before?"

Hudson nodded. "Yes, I heard some things about him and how her parents wanted her to marry him. She never told me all that much though, which is understandable."

"I wonder if we'll see him… since he still lives here." the younger car mused.

"I don't know, honey. I don't know." he answered, although her words had created a thought in his head of something that needed to be fulfilled.

. . . .

The mentioning of the one known for so long as simply Mr. Treadwell made Hudson think about who this car was and what he had ever known about his departed wife, Cornelia. It may not have seemed a natural motive for a husband to seek his wife's past lover but for some reason this seemed like something that just needed to be _done_ to Hudson. He had to meet this mysterious car for some reason, even though he wasn't quite sure what it yet was. All he could be certain on was that he wanted to know things from a different time, from _before_."

He had evaded another outing with Charles under the guise of needing a drive, which wasn't altogether a lie. He'd rather have enjoyed the fresh air outside rather than be cooped up in The Chrome Cabaret listening to his father-in-law's inappropriate tales of cheating on his wife. That thinking was so opposite from his that the old Cadillac may as well have been from another planet.

The first approachable auto Hudson found on his noonday cruise was an old Packard with dark yet oxidized paintwork. Not a speck of shine was in its finish. The same could be said for his chrome Hudson soon saw upon nearing the worn looking car. "Can I help you?" the Packard asked with a hospitable sort of smile. Hudson braked and nodded.

"Yes, maybe you can. I'm looking for someone."

"I know a number of folks 'round here. If I can't help you, I'm sure someone I know might. What's the name?"

"Treadwell. Clive Treadwell." the blue car stated. The dull Packard was taken aback.

"Mister, you happen to be lookin' right at him." Clive answered. "Do I know you?"

The younger car looked at him with a quiet and clear gaze and said something that stirred a memory for the Packard.

"My name likely means nothing to you, but I'm Hudson. Hudson Hornet."


	49. Chapter 49

49~

"You are…" the Packard said quietly later on in the solitude of his home where he very quickly insisted the talk continue. "My Ford…" he murmured, unable to finish his varying thoughts. Hudson shallowly nodded his glossy hood.

"I'm Cornelia Eldorado's husband." he began but then the words from one Porsche and Bentley came to the forefront of his mind. "Or, at least I… _was_ …" he corrected. Clive shook his own hood.

"There is no 'was,' Hudson. When you are lucky enough to know a treasure like Cornelia, there is never a time certain things stay all covered up in the past. If you were lucky enough to get the honor of not just knowing but _loving_ and _marrying_ that beautiful girl, you're _always_ going to be married to her. Ain't ever another, if you know what I mean."

Hudson silently agreed.

"I remember the first day I saw Cornelia. I'd come here from Oklahoma to try living in some different area – I wanted a change from all that waving grass and endless vistas. I wanted to see mountains and pines and all that, so I came here. I saw her one day; the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on – before or since. Everything about her was sweetness. I knew that I wanted to try to secure her for my best girl at every cost."

In that room no cars more opposite than those two could have been seen, if someone had watched them from afar. Clive Treadwell, a burgundy Packard, looking older than his years with his damaged paint and lackluster chrome. Hudson Hornet, a beautifully styled coupe with dark blue paint polished to an almost mirror-like shine and whose chrome itself _was_ akin to a mirror, catching every reflection upon its surface. But both were strangely similar. Upon close inspection, Hudson no longer looked so perfect with the roadmap of scratches under his paint. And both of them wore the stricken stance of the tragedy they had both suffered, if in different ways.

"I tried and tried to win her over," Clive sighed. "It never worked. I had one date with her and I gave her one kiss, but I've not ever forgotten that moment. Cornelia was a vision and being in her company felt like something special." He then looked up from his downcast gaze to meet Hudson's strikingly blue eyes. Clive saw the hurt in them and misread it. "I've no right to be waxing poetic about that girl. She was your wife. I've opened my mouth before I've thought again and I'd –"

"No," Hudson interjected. "No, that's not what I'm thinking. I'm not upset."

"Well, it's probably awkward as hell for me to talk about your wife though like this." Clive admitted.

"Hearing about my wife is something that brings happiness and sadness but I won't ignore the happiness just because I'll have to have the sadness with it," he answered. And Clive understood.

"Cornelia was special. I fell for that girl, like I said. I felt bad for her, having the father she did. Charles Eldorado isn't exactly an unknown figure here in town. I knew he cheated on his wife because sometimes I'd drive by the Cabaret and see him with some girl in tow. Nearly always a different one. And there at home is his daughter. I don't think she ever knew what her father did because he kept it quiet. Mary Ellen knew though. But she didn't disrupt the peace in the family. Her daughter's ignorance to it then was to make her life better. How does a young girl cope with a parent like that? I always wondered if Charles knew how lucky he was to have such a beautiful daughter; beautiful in so many ways. In looks, in heart, in personality… she was the dearest thing. I can't believe even now how that that bad-tempered, bad-mannered Eldorado is her father. I'd like to say how much I despise him, but I can't. Without him there'd be no Cornelia. So, I've tried to accept. Even though we never had the union I hoped we would, my life was a whole lot better with her in it, even for that short while.

"When Cornelia moved from town I missed her; hoped one day I'd see her again. And then that one year she comes. I'll never forget that moment she pulled up beside me on the roadway. There she was, a mature young woman so pretty and even sweeter than I remembered. She tells me she's married, that she's got a daughter," he said with a heavy sigh. "And that she's pregnant."

Hudson had said nothing although the fact he had gradually sunk lower on his shocks spoke volumes. Clive looked towards the ceiling above, as if hoping some vision of the woman he had loved resided there. "I knew I'd lost her for good then because she had this happiness about her I knew would never fade away. Her life was as she wanted it to be. I was happy for her. It was a shock to learn she was a mother but I knew she'd make a good one. And there was something else I realized," he said and looked over at his companion. Hudson met his gaze. "I didn't know who you were and doubted I ever would, but all I could think was that whoever this Hudson was got lucky to capture such a dear girl. Cornelia didn't put up with anything so I knew you treated her right. I let her go that day… but I never stopped loving her."

Clive closed his eyes, knowing what would come next but so unwilling to say it. "When I heard about her death, I felt something in life had changed, like I was going down a path I couldn't deviate from. I don't care how crazy it sounds for a guy to say this, but when she died my heart broke. I felt guilty for it. I didn't lose nearly as much as you all did. I lost a memory and a 'what could have been.' You lost a wife, the closest companion you'd ever have in life. Your daughter lost her mother. She lost her siblings. You lost your youngest children. That was the day I realized life isn't fair at all." He sighed and continued, "We all changed that day, I think. I can't speak entirely for you, Hudson, because I don't know but some of us did change. I know I'm not much to look at… haven't been for awhile really, but I think I cared less when she was gone. If you couldn't tell by the way it smells in here, I took up smoking. Told myself I never would and then I did. It helps the nerves if only momentarily. Charles Eldorado has always been an alcoholic but his 2 or three drinks a week turned into 4 or five not once but two times a week. We grew up in a time – hell, it's still that time – when men aren't permitted to show their darkest emotions unless we're behind closed doors with no one else to see us. I came to understand that despite his behavior, Charles prized his daughter. Seems odd he'd want a kid with his philanderin' ways, but he did, and he loved her in his own way. So, although I'm never going to consider him a friend, I understand him. He drinks partly to forget."

The burgundy Packard was silent for a few minutes. Hudson mirrored the same. Both were entrenched in their own memories of a time retreating further and further into the past to be retrieved only by snatched recollections that would get fuzzier through time's passage. Finally the worn looking car straightened up slowly and asked, "You mind if I have a smoke?"

"No, no. Go ahead." Hudson allowed. Clive lit his cigarette and then pitched the spent match onto a tray nearby. The unmistakable scent of sulfur lay heavily in the air for a few moments. "Nothing will ever make you forget entirely," he started. "And like you, I don't want to forget. Forgetting the bad would mean a lot of good is lost with it. You can't do that. Sometimes though, I _do_ fear I'm forgetting. And if I had the choice, I'm forgetting the wrong things."

Hudson nodded. "I understand. After ten years have gone by, I sometimes lose the exact way she would talk. Or even the way she'd smile. When that happens I have to try hard to remember again and when it comes back I just have to hope there won't ever be a day I forget – forever." he replied.

"I loved the way she'd laugh. Not that she ever did it much around me but if she would, it was something that'd make you want to join in because it was such a happy sort of sound. Even if you didn't get the joke, you'd want to join in." he quietly said before taking a drag on his cigarette. "Call me a few gears short of a good motor, but I truly believe Cornelia was an angel, not because she was infallible but because she was _true_. She never put on airs or acted like someone she wasn't. It seems like an angel isn't put in this world we live in for long though. It's like they're there to teach us something before they leave us."

"To teach us to look at the world differently," Hudson added. Clive was surprised his companion understood him. "The life I once lived was based on something else entirely. It was… fast paced." The younger car hated that choice of words but knew of no other way to phrase it. "Although I was different than others I knew there was still a part of me that was the same. And then there came the day I met Cornelia."

"You met the angel," Clive nodded at Hudson's words as his eyes traced the ghostly wisps of his cigarette's smoke in the air.

"And she taught me to see all of the beauty in this old world."


	50. Chapter 50

50~

 _He drank partly to forget._

Those were the words Hudson kept mulling over in his mind when he returned to the Eldorado home and ultimately to another car whom he wasn't entirely eager to fraternize with but had a need to speak with all the same. He had to look past that exterior to find possible something warmer within.

Charles was camped out in front of the TV that late afternoon/early evening. Forklifts swung clubs and pitched golf balls across a grey-and-white fairway. The older Cadillac glanced momentarily away when his peripheral vision caught Hudson when he had pulled up a few feet away from him. "How's it going, son?" he asked before taking a swig from his quart of oil. For once his beverage wasn't liquor.

"I'm fine, thanks." Hudson replied, trying to figure out the best moment to make his point known. Charles turned back to the TV and motioned to the screen with his left front tire.

"See that guy with the cap? He doesn't know a golf ball from a bowling ball. He keeps pitching the damned thing in either the sandpit or the water-hazard. Whenever they interview the lemon, he says his aspiration is to make a hole-in-one. With the way he's keeping up, that's gonna happen when I turn into a Model A."

Not interested in a heated debate about sports, Hudson simply nodded and said, "There's something I need to talk to you about, Charles."

Charles watched "the lemon" throw the golf ball into a water-hazard and muttered a choice expletive under his breath before acknowledging his son-in-law. "Hold on just a few, alright? The game's almost over. Sit here with me and watch it."

Unwillingly Hudson did so, relieved when the tournament came to its close. Charles started to turn off the television but then a commercial came on with a cute Chrysler Imperial advertising a new type of clear coat for paint. "What a _doll,_ " the old Cadillac said with a nod of approval. When the girl turned around in one scene, Charles's topaz eyes locked onto her gleaming curves. "A firecracker of a doll, too."

This ad had barely ended and Charles had again been just about ready to crank the TV off when an infomercial came on with a starchy looking physician. The old Cadillac glared and said something about the guy being a "fogy" but he very quickly shut his mouth when the camera panned from the doctor to a very striking female Rolls Royce from his era. "Damned small screen." Charles swore.

 _"Hello men. Do you yearn to be more… stunning?"_ she purred in her classy British accent.

"Hell yeah," Charles answered.

" _Do you yearn to be more… appealing?"_

"Ditto," he said, nodding his huge hood. The ornament on the end reflected the glow from the TV. The actress batted her eyes, fixed the camera with a smoldering look and continued in a sensual tone, " _Do you yearn to have more… prowess?_ "

"Holy Tuscaloosa," Charles said in an approving tone with his infamous smirk, completely ignorant of his son-in-law parked nearby whom found himself witnessing another awkward moment with the Eldorado patriarch. Charles inched closer to the screen until his gleaming chrome grille came within a few centimeters of the glass. The English car tilted her curvy frame at a beneficial angle to show it off even better.

" _If you want to be all of these things and_ more _, honey, I have news for you. Something new and exciting has been patented, and who doesn't like new and exciting?"_

"I may not be completely into the 'new' but you're speaking to me with that 'exciting' part, sugar." Charles answered the screen in a tone and way alike to when he still engaged in his paramour ways at the Cabaret. Hudson could only guess something similar. "You speak to me in _volumes_." The Rolls Royce seemed to smirk back in a pleasantly thrilling sort of way.

 _"If you want all of this, talk to your doctor about_ Lift _, the new drug to improve your prowess. See if it's right for you. And if it is, honey, you won't regret it."_ she purred in a husky tone. Charles looked like he was in seventh-heaven.

"What a luscious tomato," he sighed, though quickly snapped to attention when a phone-number popped up on the screen. It was barely on before suddenly the screen went black. The lamp nearby flickered off also. Charles spat out a curse that even made Hudson reverse back a few feet in shock. "Holy effing hell! A beautiful babe comes on, does wonders for this old man and then an effing power surge happens?!"

He was in the middle of his tirade when just as soon as it left the electricity came back on. The television flickered a snowy scene where moments before a delightful Rolls Royce had been. Charles threw out one more cuss word before turning the display off. "If only that had happened when that lemon was losing the golf ball every time he swung," he mumbled before reversing slightly to better face his silent son-in-law. "Alright, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Hudson cleared his throat and then replied, "I wanted to know something serious."

"Well, do I not look like a serious man? I'll answer your question." Charles answered, checking to see if his quart of oil was indeed empty before throwing it aside and leveling his topaz eyes on the Hornet.

"Were you always a drinker?" Hudson asked evenly. "Of alcohol I mean, of course."

Charles shifted the weight of his body to one side and answered, "Well, I'd say a pretty long time, son. You remember what I told you at the Cabaret. Smoking butts didn't work for me so I took up the liquor instead. You remember my lesson on how much it helps when it comes to warming the engine on a cold day and also the magic it adds to an intimate moment with a lady."

"Yes I remember," Hudson confirmed before his father-in-law could sermonize again over his latter favorite subject. "I just wanted to know if you've always drank the same as you do now. You really went all out at the bar."

"It's a 'club,' son, not a 'bar.' Two entirely different things. Clubs are swanky. And I don't know… let me think. Well, I went there once a week for the longest time and then some time or another, I went twice a week. Nearly always on Saturday, weekday depending. Why?"

"What made you switch to going more often?" Hudson asked, wondering if Charles would admit to what Clive Treadwell had observed. The Cadillac seemed to actually consider this even though for him it was an act and he didn't need to consider at all. He knew why he had switched and what made him go more often. He knew _exactly_.

"Well," he began in a tone devoid of the bravado common to him any other time. "It all happened when my daughter died."

Hudson nodded in a fashion that showed understanding. Charles turned his front axle to pull away from the TV and continued after he slowed to a halt, "That'd change most any man. It changed me." The younger car was silently amazed that the Cadillac had become candid for a moment's length no one knew. He spoke without arrogant inflections. "I'd tell anyone that I probably seem like the most unlikely man to want a child, but I did. Ideally I wanted two kids and at least one a son to carry on the Eldorado name. After Cornelia was born though, nothing else happened. Like I said the other day, I guess I went the ways of a damned rubber glove. I never saw myself a parent to a girl. I had no idea how to get along with one. Besides all that though, I loved Cornelia with all my heart, even though I didn't have a clue how to show it most the time. I left the raising of her to Mary Ellen who did a good job and raised her right. She turned into a wonderful girl." he told. Silence fell and then he exhaled in a surrendering sort of way. To Hudson he added, "If you really want to hear more of the same, I'm going to need something a lot stronger than that there oil to get me through it."

The rest of Charles's tale would be told with the assistance of ice-chilled whiskey. Out and away from his companions at the Cabaret and without any lurid stories to tell, he became a changed man; the sort of man Hudson imagined he could have been had he never been a cheater and had resisted the siren-song of alcohol. He showed the possibilities of being decent, despite his traits of egotism and self-righteousness.

"I never knew how to love a daughter, like I already told you, but I hope I was able to show it as I wished I could have. One thing I am certain of was that I was harsh with her… and I regret it. Every day." he said, examining the ice in his glass. "Back when she was younger I told her that if she went to one more race, I'd kick her out of the house. This house. Because I didn't think that was the right thing for a female to like. I don't know how I didn't drive her further away from me than I did. I'm amazed she wanted to come out and visit at all. I was a damned lousy father."

Hudson sat there in silence, knowing there was still more to be heard from the car that now wasn't the infamous cavalier but instead the grief-stricken father who didn't know what way to cope with the loss of his only child. He felt true pity for the old Cadillac. He couldn't even begin to imagine losing Grace. What would that do to one? It still sorrowed him – the loss of his very youngest children – but they he had never known. Grace he knew well; her every quality and facet. Just like Charles had known his Cornelia.

The golden Cadillac tossed back the rest of his drink and then set the glass down. Its sides glimmered with accumulated drops of condensation. "I didn't know how to show love to a daughter but I did know how to defend her. I was proud of my Cornelia even though I could take no credit for how she turned out. She was sweet and as beautiful as her ways. I didn't just want any lemon dating her, either. Ideally I wanted her to have another of her own kind, but the only other Caddy in town at that time was a worse drinker than me." Charles looked towards the empty glass that had been thrice refilled since the talk had commenced. His tone turned wry. "It looks like times have changed though and I'm just as bad now. Probably worse. I'm a damned tosspot."

His tough and imposing stance turned vulnerable as he sank on his shocks. "My daughter and wife would spend their evenings here while once a week I'd go to the Cabaret, have three or four drinks and then spend a few hours with some woman. Nearly always a different one in that hostel. I used to think of it as a fulfilling thing, but it took for my child to lose her life until I understood what mattered. It could be likened I guess to me getting what I deserved, but the fact I had to lose her to make me change… it's horrible. I learned now but I wonder how much longer I would have gone the same way until I changed. If I did. All of this is what made me go the Cabaret twice a week, having more than just a couple drinks."

The younger car thought of Clive's words. "You drink partly to forget?" he asked, echoing the Packard.

Charles rose up again on his shocks and looked Hudson in the eye. He shallowly nodded his long hood and in a resigned tone he answered, "I guess you could say I do."


	51. Chapter 51

_**(Author's Note: Sorry for not updating more often, faithful readers! This website has been blocked by the library and I can only access it every so often! Thanks for understanding!)**_

51~

Charles may have had his drinks that night but the talk with his son-in-law had succeeded in sobering him in ways little else had. When his wife and granddaughter returned from their all-day outing at sunset, the older car only watched a little more television and read only one more section of _The Daily Exhaust_ before opting to join Mary Ellen in their room down the hall. She appeared shocked to see him there. Usually she would spend a good hour or so alone reading before he'd decide to join her. The older car pulled before her, drawing to a smooth and silent halt. She looked up from her magazine. "Well hello, Charles." she greeted with a soft smile.

She looked lovely there in the glow of the nearby lamp, he realized. Her chrome gleamed as softly as her smile. What Hudson said was true, Charles admitted. He did drink many times to forget. To forget about his daughter's killers; to forget about the misery he had put his good-hearted wife through.

But there was no forgetting. The knowledge of all that just became a little duller when alcohol's fog blanketed the understanding. It never disappeared, that knowing. He had come to his sense too late, which was true. He could hope to change the truth with the "what could have been" for the rest of his entire life but it would never happen.

He leaned in to kiss his wife, the mother of their only and lost daughter, with a gesture that was borne of love, not the lust shared between his many past flames. He could drink to forget but there was still so much good to remember. Mary Ellen was stunned by his unexpected and tender gesture but willingly returned it all the same. Her husband had his flaws that had created a decent wealth of havoc upon their marriage and although he was often difficult to understand and even to really forgive for his too-long streak of unfaithfulness, she had still loved him. Some would say she was weak and foolish to stay with a man like Charles Eldorado, but she kept her faith in the goodness she knew he had somewhere, buried beneath all the layers he had built atop it.

When they parted she offered again that gentle smile and said softly the words the old Cadillac felt he deserved the least. "I've always loved you, Charley." He was sobered enough from his earlier talk that he did something he rarely would have ever done, and pursued the subject.

"How, Mary Ellen? How can you feel that way still?"

She reversed slightly to get a good look at her husband and replied, "It's true that our marriage hasn't been an easy one, Charles. I've told you many times before about how unhappy your ways made me. I felt more alone with you than not. I watched _The Classy Cord_ as an escape. I told you that before. I watched something like that to imagine something else. I knew from the very first time that you didn't just go the Cabaret for a drink or two. I know you were spending some time with the women who sought out someone like you. It broke my heart time and again and I was angry with you. Sometimes I admit I wondered why I was still married to you… why I didn't just leave. But, there are two reasons I stayed with you."

His silently inquisitive look was all she needed to continue. "Cornelia was the dearest thing to ever enter my life and without you I'd never have her. You gave me the best daughter in the world. I also always kept faith in the goodness I know you have. You're tough and harsh many times but I know you can have kindness also."

"You're a good woman, Mary Ellen," Charles told his wife. "Too good for someone of my creed." She came nearer to the bigger car and lightly rested her fender against his, looking within his topaz eyes.

"No Charles," she murmured. "You've changed from who you were. You may still be brash but that's a trait of your personality – at certain times. You have goodness to you though that has showed itself more since you changed.

He gave her an affectionate nuzzle. "I'm grateful for you in ways I'm too stupid to say most of the time. Without you I'd never had had Cornelia. Without you…I'd probably not even be married this long. You have had a lot of patience."

She gave him the sort of smile he loved. "It hasn't been a smooth road, but when all those trials fall aside, I don't mind being Mrs. Eldorado, Charley." He turned towards her and proved his gratitude for such by giving her a sound kiss. When he slightly pulled back he smiled handsomely at his wife in return. "If this same house wasn't shared by our granddaughter at this time, I think you know exactly how I'd show my appreciation for your goodness, sugar." Mary Ellen found herself surprised by a blush despite all the years she had been married and been the receiver of her husband's maddeningly urbane and dangerous charm. He turned his front tires out in a way that paired perfectly with his next words. "Well…?"

She bit the inside of her mouth in silent contemplation. Finally she said, "It'd be quite embarrassing if the girl happened upon us. What if she needed something?" Charles rolled his eyes casually and replied, "She's a grown woman and hasn't needed our assistance yet. Anyhow, there's no way she could happen upon us. Doors have locks for these kinds of reasons, my dear."

She smiled. "You've made your point and intentions clear, Charles." He smirked.

"Don't I always, Mary Ellen?"

. . . .

Grace spent the next day with her grandfather whilst Hudson got to better know the mother of his beloved wife. Charles found he had to promise his wife nearly a dozen times before she was assured he wouldn't accidentally spill vulgarity or let his infamous bar tales fly around the girl. A curse ended up still falling here and there though, proving that the leopard couldn't change his spots.

They went out for a drive together; Grace hoping this would better bond her and her admittedly wacky relative. She kept pace beside the bigger Fleetwood and cheerfully engaged him in talk. "Have you lived here a long time, Grandfather?" she asked.

Charles tossed his great hood nonchalantly and replied, "So long that I could drive through here in the middle of a moonless night with my headlights off and _still_ know where I'd be going." She laughed.

"You sure about that?" she asked.

"Do I have the face of a liar to you, honey?" he asked. She cast her eyes over to him and scrutinized his countenance.

"Hmm… I'm not sure." she joked. He casually rolled his eyes.

"I understand your hesitance, but one part of that wasn't a lie. I have lived here a long time. And if a night was moonless, you'd better believe I'd have my headlights on. I'm not taking any chances cutting corners and scratching my paint."

"I knew it!" she laughed. "I figured you were fooling me on some of that."

"Guilty as charged," he surrendered. Looking up ahead he saw The Chrome Cabaret a couple blocks away, and an idea entered his mind. "Hey, I've got a plan. Interested in meeting my friend Harlan?"

The younger car, being a sweet and social sort, didn't think there'd be anything to question about this so she nodded and answered, "Of course, Grandfather."

Charles pulled up to the Cabaret and with his typical show-off bravado, pushed the front oak double doors open with two sweeps of his hood. Everyone within the club (everyone who wasn't totally sauced, that is) looked up at the sudden burst of daylight and it wasn't farfetched to say several recognized the gleaming Fleetwood instantly. One brown Cord flashed him a wink and a saucy little smile. He flashed in return a stern look. This wasn't the occasion for that to be freely thrown about. Grace pulled up beside him and as their eyes adjusted to the shadows both male and female patrons snatched glances at the beautiful seafoam-green Cadillac accompanying him. One girl turned to her friend and whispered, " _He's getting ones younger and younger all the time._ " Her friend whispered back, " _Well, he's an older man. They like the young ones. Young ones make him feel like he's still got plenty of It._ " The first girl softly giggled and looked over at the undeniably handsome gold-and-black Fleetwood. " _I wouldn't mind showing him he's still got It_." Her friend paled. " _Oh Ethel…_ "

Somehow Charles didn't hear the exchange and once he was confident of seeing well in the shadowy interior, flashed his companion a hospitable smile and pulled up to the bar before the awaiting Harlan who had watched their entrance ever since Charles had swung open the front doors. "How's it going, friend?" he asked the older car. Charles tilted the weight of his frame to one side and answered, "Doing well, thanks for asking." Harlan nodded and turned to Grace who hesitantly pulled up next to her relation.

"And how are you, Miss?" he asked. Grace startled at being unexpectedly addressed but quickly remembered her manners and smiled kindly at the silver Cadillac.

"I'm fine, sir." she assured. Harlan's eyes drifted back to those of the gold car.

"Isn't she a little… _young_ … for you, Charles? Not trying to dictate how you should live by your American rights, but I do feel that should be mentioned. When were you born, honey?" he asked to Grace before flabbergasted Charles could react.

"I… in 1957." she replied, confused. Harlan shook his hood and turned back to his friend. "And you were born in 1938. Even for you this is rather impure, friend." Charles had had enough. His topaz eyes sparked and he finally opened his mouth.

"Dammit to hell, she's my _granddaughter!_ " he snapped. Other patrons looked up at his outburst. Harlan even pulled back in shock.

"I… I had no idea. So very sorry, friend. Just… knowing your ways, I…" he backpedaled. Charles set his jaw and glared.

"Right. Well, try to at least act a little civil around the girl. She's the only grandchild I have and I'm not going to tolerate you spewing B.S. in front of her." Harlan nodded in understanding and then turned his focus to the pretty young car.

"Never thought I'd meet you, though I've heard some good things about you from your granddad here. I'm afraid I didn't get your name, honey." he said. She smiled with more comfort and told him.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Grace. Now that I can see you better in this light, I realize you've got the smile of your mother. She was a good lady." he said. The younger car nodded silently. Harlan knew not to press the difficult subject with her further and moved back to Charles. "Any particular beverage you want, friend?" he asked.

Charles looked at the silver Cadillac as if he had sprouted wings. "You think I'd drink in front of my grandchild? Holy Ford, Harlan, I'm not _that_ bad." Harlan seemed to retreat again, not expecting this sort of attitude from his long-time friend. "If I have a drink, it'll be later, on my _own_. Understand me?" the Fleetwood pressed.

"Got it, friend." he promptly answered. Charles turned an unpredictably warm and loving eye to the girl introduced as Grace Hornet and offered, "Why don't we head on out, honey? There's a lot more for you to see out there than in here." She agreed with a look that seemed to say relief. As he and his young companion left, the gleaming girl named Ethel turned to her friend again although her eyes never left the slow passage of the handsome '38 Cadillac as he moved by them.

"He's got an attitude on him but he's one distinguished fellow. His big old motor is definitely one I wouldn't mind finding above me." she murmured. Her friend paled even further from before.

"Oh honey…" she gasped. "I think you're quite drunk."


	52. Chapter 52

p class="x_MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Californian FB','serif',serif,'EmojiFont';"52~br / br / "I often regret the fact Charles and I were so… standoffish…to you when you met us years ago."br /br / span /spanWhilst Charles and Grace had been out for the day Mary Ellen had shared unknown stories with Hudson of Cornelia's youngest years. While the memories were not easy to hear, he was glad to know them either /br / span /span"You had your reasons; it's alright." he assured /br / span /span"I'm still sorry though. As time has gone by I've realized what a kind and good-hearted fellow you were to her. I have no doubts that you loved her fully." Mary Ellen said. Hudson /br / span /span"She was one of the best parts of my life, the other portion being Grace. You raised a wonderful girl. She added such goodness to my life and made me look at things differently. I'll never know a more wonderful lady than Cornelia."br /br / span /spanA pang of sorrow came upon the light-yellow Cadillac's heart but she tried to stave it away valiantly with talk. "When Charles and I were married he told me of his desire for a son but of course the only child we were ever able to have was Cornelia. He claims that he never knew how to raise a girl, but I know he loved her with all his heart and that she became the only child he ever desired as the years went on. Her loss hit him hard, although he'll be the last to outright say it. You're lucky to have a sweet soul like your Grace; I see Cornelia in her in so many ways. I know that her siblings could have been just as dear."br /br / span /spanThe shallow smile that curved Hudson's front bumper was one of plain sadness despite the bravery the gesture was supposed to stand for. "Maybe, but we never got the chance to know."br /br / span /spanMary Ellen gave up on her act and came forward to give the younger indigo car a nuzzle of maternal compassion. "I hope you and your darling daughter come to visit us more in the future. You're both always welcome in the Eldorado family."br /br /. . . .br / br / WHEN the week's visit was up, Grace and Hudson rose early to leave on their designated day to exchange pleasantries between Mr. and Mrs. Eldorado, and Charles managed to keep himself entirely civil – for the most part. Upon the dry and prickly lawn the two older cars sat together and whilst Mary Ellen had a moment with Grace the Fleetwood had a few moments with /br / span /span"I've got to say, son, you were one hell of a drinking partner at the Cabaret. I know I told you that before but it begs to be said again." he said with a broad grin. Mary Ellen nudged him and hissed, "Charles! Can you say emanything/em without cursing?" He narrowed his topaz eyes at her in what was plainly mock /br / span /span"Chrysler on a conveyor belt, woman! 'Hell' is not a curse word." Charles emphatically stated. Mary Ellen decided to let it go and not bicker with her spouse during the last few minutes with her granddaughter. The gold-and-black car promptly forgot about the exchange and turned again to his son-in-law. "You ought to come back during the holidays. No one celebrates Christmas better than I do. I go all out at the club, let me tell you what. Harlan wears a wreath on his grille sometimes which looks dumber than hell but he likes throwing a little holly jolly around the joint. Mary Ellen here tried to get me to have a red bow tied to my hood ornament one year but I said no way. That curvaceous Flying Lady is just fine the way she is." he said, momentarily looking at said ornament and smiling fondly. Hudson willed himself to not feel awkward over another such exchange with his father-in-law. Charles tilted the weight of his frame to one side and continued, "The snow up here is to die for, son. The chicks look so pretty with a smattering of snow on their hoods. All a man has to do is look at 'em right sometimes and it just melts clear off."br /br / span /span"emCharles!/em Grace is right here, you know." Mary Ellen interjected, giving her husband such a firm jab his frame rocked on his tires. He didn't seem too affected. "I didn't say anything inappropriate, sugar. I was only stating a fact."br /br / span /span"A fact according to Charles Eldorado." she /br / span /span"Well, that works with me, given that's who I am." he answered. Hudson meanwhile observed the both of them, realizing the banter between them was friendlier than it had even been on their first day 7 days before. He wondered what had happened to make it so. He assumed Mary Ellen had had a talk with him, but couldn't know for sure. Around ten minutes passed with other conversing before the pale-yellow Cadillac wound down and wished them well and with a flicker of fear in her eyes eerily echoed the words Hudson understood so well, having said something identical to a DeSoto named Helen Sparks years /br / span /span"Drive safely. Those words are simple but mean a lot."/span/p  
p class="x_MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Californian FB','serif',serif,'EmojiFont';"~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~br / br / "Home, sweet home. It's good to be back!" Grace announced as they drove past the welcome sign to Radiator Springs a couple days later. "It was pretty up there where they lived, but I missed the red-rock mountains and the Ornament Valley."br /br / span /spanHudson dropped his speed to a little below the 25 MPH limit and could only agree with his daughter. "I understand what you mean, honey." he said. "Thomasville looked a lot like their part of the country and although it was pretty enough, I never realized how much I could like something else till your mother asked to come out here for good. Snow is nice but it didn't do too terribly much for me."br /br / span /spanBefore Grace could help herself the words fell out of her mouth. "Did you ever look at a lady in a way that made the snow melt off her hood?"br /br / span /spanHe nearly slammed on his brakes but somehow managed not to at the last minute. He cast his blue eyes over to meet Grace's lighter pair of the same hue. "You heard that?" he /br / span /span"I was right there, Daddy." she laughed sweetly. Hudson /br / span /span"Your grandfather, I swear. I'm glad you're not a little girl anymore or I'd be even more displeased by his sharing."br /br / span /spanSeeing there was still a fair distance until they actually entered the town limits, Grace gently pressed her point. "Well, Daddy?"br /br / span /span"Well what?" he /br / span /span"Did you ever make snow melt off a lady's hood by looking at her?"br /br / span /spanHe rolled his eyes. "No, Grace. After I married your mother I never looked at another lady and there was never enough snow here to fall on her hood for me to find out whether a look is that powerful."br /br / span /span"I'm not trying to be mean to you," she quickly offered, fearing she had crossed a boundary with her father. Instead he offered her his good-natured smile in return and replied, "I'm not upset at you, honey. I never will be."br /br / span /spanAs soon as they entered the business district side by side all of the townsfolk who saw them rushed forward, forcing them to both halt. Luigi raced up first with Guido in tow. "It feels like it's been forever since we've seen you!" The little forklift jabbered something in Italian. The Fiat grinned broader and interpreted, "He says he's-a glad to see you, too."br /br / span /span"Well, we're glad to be back!" Grace cheerfully replied. Hudson smiled as well. "As she said, it's good to be back." he /br / span /spanOver at the V8 Café Flo found she could easily leave the station, given that so few folks had come since the Interstate had been created and she could have sworn fewer came in the days Hudson and Grace had been away, even though she imagined it was simply a crazy thought. Nothing could change much in seven days, could it?br /br / span /spanShe pulled up to the gathered group of residents and politely nosed her way through until she was at the front and Grace's eyes locked on her the same moment they saw one another again. The seafoam-green Cadillac practically leaped up in excitement. "Flo, Flo!" she exclaimed, rushing over to greet her beloved second mother with a kiss. "I've missed you so much!"br /br / span /spanThe gleaming mint-green car returned the affection with natural ease and replied, "I've missed you also, baby girl, and I'm sho' glad to see you back! This place ain't the same without you. It's not the same without emboth /emof you, you know!"br /br / span /span"Well, I'm back now." the younger car assured, smiling sweetly. Flo smiled in /br / span /span"Your help was sorely missed at the V8, sugar. I missed having my company in those down hours. You add a real spark to the place!"br /br / span /spanThe young Cadillac closed her eyes and rested her front fender up against that belonging to the Motorama beauty. "I'll be back soon to help, Flo. Together we'll give all the customers a real memorable piece of service."br /br / span /spanFlo gazed at the girl with motherly affection and replied, "That's the spirit, honey. That is the spirit."br /br / span /spanLater that evening when the majority of the excitement had burned out and the town grew peaceful (how much more silent the nights were getting without the broader rush of visitors), Hudson voted to not be a stick in the mud and sit solitary at home. Instead he drove over to the V8 to enjoy the camaraderie of all the townsfolk. Although she wasn't officially back to work yet, Grace had still gone over to assist Flo. She was so enjoying being back that there was no other place she'd rather be than with all of her friends. Naturally she was delighted further when a blue car beloved to her pulled up under the neon-lit /br / span /span"Daddy! You're here!" she exclaimed with a great smile. He returned /br / span /span"You aren't tired of seeing me yet after that vacation?" he teased. She rolled her /br / span /span"I'm never going to get tired of seeing you." she /br / span /span"You know how to warm a heart, honey." he told her. Before the younger car could say any more, the shining proprietress cruised up to join the small group. She smiled warmly at him. "Hudson," she began. "I don't think I ever got a chance to offer you a proper 'welcome home' earlier, so I figure I may as well now. It's good to see you again, real good. We missed you plenty."br /br / span /spanHe dipped his hood in a polite gesture to her and replied, "Well, thank you. It's good to be back again." Grace smiled at the pair before being summoned by Lizzie a few spaces down. She quickly went to assist her. Flo watched briefly before turning back to the indigo /br / span /span"How was everything?" she asked. "Does Grace get along well with her grandparents?"br /br / span /spanHudson sank down further on his shocks, the tiredness from the past two days of driving finally hitting him. "She gets along with them well, yes. They're good to her." Flo nodded in /br / span /span"How about you, honey? You get along well with them?"br /br / span /span"Better than I did when I first met them, planning to marry their daughter. Mary Ellen, Cornelia's mother, is a kind woman. Her father, Charles… he's…" Hudson struggled to find the right word to describe the bodacious Fleetwood. Flo looked on, /br / span /span"He's a character," Hudson finally said, deciding to leave it at that. Flo /br / span /span"I think I know everything you mean behind that one word. I get folks in here like that. No other word really describes them entirely. Other than that I hope you had a good time."br /br / span /spanHe nodded. "I did. I learned things I didn't know about my first girl before I met her. It was hard, but I'm glad to have heard them."br /br / span /span"She was likely always a wonderful gal, wasn't she?" Flo asked. Hudson nodded /br / span /span"She was. Cornelia was a special one and there'll never be another exactly like her."br / br / . . . .br / br / Grace returned home with her father as the tenth hour of the evening passed. She was tired but not in a bad way. Things had gone well with her grandparents and she had a wonderful several hours with all she loved in her hometown. She felt certain she would sleep soundly that /br / span /spanBack at their home her tired father surrendered to sleep early whilst she stayed up just a little longer to catch up with the local newspaper. She read until one too many yawns distracted her from moving further along in the text and only then gave up for the night also. Just like she had always done she pulled beside her father, though this time she came beside him closer and as she had as a child, leaned up into his glossy side. Used to this gesture from both his daughter and later in another fashion, his wife, the older car didn't react. The Cadillac thought once more about the delightful day she had spent with Flo and Lizzie and all the others before reaching forth to shut off the light, drenching the room in darkness. She blinked a few times till her eyes adjusted and looked out the far window at the sparkling heavens /br / span /spanemThe stars are the headlights of all those who've gone before us/em, she thought before peacefully closing her eyes./span/p 


	53. Chapter 53

53~

He was likely one of the ugliest cars Grace had ever seen and that said a lot considering how many came to the V8 Café. As if the fact he was ugly wasn't bad enough, the truth the he was interested in her was even worse.

"What do you say to goin' out for a little cruise, muffin?" he asked in a tone dripping with an inflection the Cadillac didn't much like. She met his chilly silver eyes.

"I can't. I'm busy here till late." she said, hoping that would prevent him from further inquiry. He simply shrugged and answered before taking a sip from his oil can, "There's no rules about you having to drive in the daytime, sugarplum. Night drives are… _fun_." He winked at her but she didn't catch it. She was too busy inspecting him for any telling details that would be sure to alarm her of his horrid identity if he came back in town in the future when her eyes suddenly locked on his logo and the chrome letters above his front fenders. She nearly felt sick.

The creep had a cone over at the Motel he was lodging at, she learned, and because of this Grace was eager to simply return home when her shift ended and not linger for worry he'd come back. Flo, who hadn't seen the disturbing guest, was confused by Grace's hasty departure but didn't stop her. She figured the girl would tell her what the matter was if she wanted to.

Despite the Cadillac's intentions, her father still saw through her cover to realize something was up. Gently he tried to divulge her troubles from her. Grace sighed.

"I just had a bad day…" she answered, vague.

"How was it bad?" he pressed, worried something more had happened than there just being an annoying but harmless bad apple in the daily bunch. He had been around long enough; he knew something else was afoot. Grace looked up again and met his gaze, one of concern and caring. She could not hide the encounter from him, and so she sighed again.

"This guy came in today… he wasn't right. He seemed… odd."

Her tone alarmed him of something potentially worse. "Did he harass you?" he asked. She shifted.

"Yes… I guess." she finally admitted. Hudson's eyes went wide. "He kept asking if I'd go on a drive with him and when I said I worked late, he simply said night drives were also 'fun.' It didn't feel right."

The older blue car knew the signs of a dangerous delinquent and wasn't about to have the only other girl in his life threatened by one. He rose up to attention – both figuratively and literally – and asked of his daughter, " _Who_ is this punk and _where_ is he?"

Grace wasn't expecting this response from her father and was startled by the staid expression in his carriage. "I don't know his name," she complied in answer. "But he's staying at the Cozy Cone."

Hudson glared to an unknown point with narrowed eyes and said, "I'm paying him a visit." With that he started his powerful motor with a single crank and illumined the room as he switched on his headlights. He had just shifted his engine out of park when Grace moved forward to intercept him.

"There's one more thing, Daddy," she began. He inquired what. She looked down at her hood, feeling the association she'd voice would be blasphemy despite its truth.

"He's a late model version, but…" she hesitated.

"Yes darling?" he asked. She met his eyes and then said that reality that stilled somehow chilled her.

"He's a Hudson Hornet, just like you."

. . . .

To anyone who saw Hudson driving to the Cozy Cone it was obvious that he had a purpose and those who saw him didn't try to distract him from it. Mr. Springson was still on duty at the front desk when the cobalt car entered the lobby and looked up in shock. "Why, I didn't expect you in tonight, Mr. Hornet." he said.

"I need to see someone." Hudson answered in way of greeting. The silver Buick could plainly see the other car was hell-bent on a mission and even though it went against his rules to allow anyone to inquire about lodgers, he also knew the town's doctor was an upstanding citizen who would cause no problems. If he had to see someone, there was a darn good reason.

"Who is it, Mr. Hornet?" he asked.

"That's just it, I don't know his name. He came to the V8 though and hassled my daughter in a very impolite way and I'd like a word with him." Hudson answered. "All I know is that he's the same kind of car I am, believe it or not."

This brought forth a detail in Mr. Springson's mind. "Oh… I know who it is. He's a black-and-white late model Hornet. I think he's '55 or '56. I'm no expert on that though. Cursed looking character. I should have known he was trouble." The Buick shuffled through some paperwork. "I have his name here somewhere."

"Forget about name, I just need to know what number he's at."

The proprietor could tell there would be no swaying the car before him with other details. He looked up. "He's at Number 4, friend."

Hudson dipped his hood in polite gesture. "Thanks kindly."

Back out in the lot he switched his headlights back on and drove slowly past the other cones until his lights emblazoned unlucky #4. He turned carefully into the small driveway and honked his horn once. Near instantly the door rolled up. As the occupant came into view, the blue car had a strange recollection of the first time his wife had seen a '54 Hudson Hornet, back when it was new. To put it lightly, there was no way Hudson would confuse what lay before him as a mirror reflection. The changes between both cars were enormous and the attitude the lodger had was so ugly it made him even more unattractive.

"What's the deal, pal?" the black-and-white Hornet asked of the indigo one. Hudson played it polite, despite his inner ire.

"I heard word that you bothered a girl named Grace Hornet." he led in. The two-tone car smiled.

"I just chatted to her. If she says I bothered her than she's blowing it out of proportion, but then women are known to do that a lot. They like crying wolf and playing victim when a fella just gives her a little attention. She's one fine piece of steel and chrome. I've been dreaming about a little 'event' with her; if you catch my drift, pal. She looks as delectable as a Georgia peach."

"I see," Hudson stated, his dryness in tone scarcely covering his disgust. The Hornet with chilly silver eyes looked to his visitor and asked, "What? You act like the idea isn't possible. She's beautiful. Don't tell me you haven't thought about seeing those stellar contours in the moonlight. You're a guy."

"So I am, but I haven't thought about that. Care to know why?"

"Why?

"She's my daughter." Hudson curtly answered. "And I would like to tell you to stay far away from her, and by 'far' I mean I'd prefer you be in the next state."

The black-and-white Hornet laughed. "Is that right? What's your problem? Can't stand seeing the girl have a man? Don't know if you've looked lately but she's no tyke anymore. She's a grown and gorgeous woman that can make a man daydream and just fantasize about – "

"Just _STOP_ it. Right now." Hudson snapped in a tone that made even the creep rise up in what seemed like shock. He wanted not an agreement though made civil but a challenge made hard.

. . . .

Grace couldn't even think about reading a newspaper or a magazine until her father came home. Ever since losing her mother she worried over her only parent in any circumstance that warranted it and this was one. What was going on at the Motel? Was anybody hurt? Well, she didn't give a darn if that creep was hurt; she just hoped her father was alright. The other Hornet certainly looked like he had an attitude he wasn't afraid to throw about which made her uneasy. She had waited what seemed like a hundred years though was only a little past an hour before she finally grew tired of waiting and worrying. The moment she started to throw open the doors though they opened seemingly on their own and she drew back quickly to make way, finally seeing her father. His expression was one of fury although it instantly softened the moment he saw her. "Hello again, honey." he greeted with warmth. She tried on a smile also.

"Hello Daddy," she said. "I've been so worried."

He doused his headlights as he pulled through Grace looked at him carefully, her reason not entirely sure until her eyes latched on it. She gasped and her eyes widened with fright when they saw the scrape marring and even partly removing the paint on his rear panel just a foot or so before his left back tire. It was so long it even managed to go across his door.

Suddenly Grace Hornet was the girl in 1959 again who had lost her mother and feared daily for her father, fearing something would make her lose him too. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. " _Daddy,_ " she cried in a tone that came out as a whisper. Hudson seemed to know exactly how she felt and the memories that filled her mind and slowly came over to her and silently placed his front fender against hers. The touch made her fall apart.

"It's just…" she murmured. "It's just… seeing you scraped up reminded me so much of the last day I saw Mama. From that day forward I hoped nothing like that would ever happen to you!"

He nuzzled her and said in a tone as gentle as his action, "I understand, darling. I understand. I'm alright though, don't worry."

She thought for a moment and then a reality chilled her. Even now she could still forget… forget so easily. She looked up quickly to meet her father's azure eyes with her paler gaze.

"It happened to you already…" she whispered. "In 1954, when you… crashed."

"That was a life far away, Grace. Don't worry about it." he assured her. She shallowly nodded. He gave her a gentle nudge. "You haven't heard the good part yet." he offered, hoping to see her expression turn happy again. As a caring parent that was one of his most important desires.

She was curious. "What good part?" she asked. He smiled softly.

"That punk got it worse than I did. It's true I haven't been a racecar in a long time now, but to have that kind of work I had with what it entailed, I had to be a strong car. Although it doesn't much matter now it came in handy for giving him a little 'what-for.' He's wearing a little less paint than he did before I met him.

Grace knew in any other instance it was bad mannered to delight in someone else's bad turn, but this situation was different. "Good. Serves him right." she nodded with vehemence.

"I think he'll leave town either tonight or first thing tomorrow."

"You scared him that bad?" the Cadillac teased. Hudson smiled gently.

"He should have known to not underestimate the power of a fellow who treasures his daughter above all else. No matter your age, Grace, I will _never_ let a punk harass you if I'm around to do something about it."

She turned to softly kiss the side of his fender in loving appreciation. "I wish every girl could have you for her daddy. Think of how lucky they'd all be to have someone so caring to them. Think of all the sisters I'd have too!" she lightly laughed.

"Always one to look on the bright side." he replied, glad to just see her cheerful spirit return.

"Thank you again." she offered.

"For what, darling? I don't need thanks." he assured.

"For showing him the door, for watching out for me still. For all of that. For simply loving me." she answered.

He met her eyes fully with his own tender gaze and replied, "That's the easiest task I've had to do, Grace. I admit all those years ago when your mother got pregnant with you I was apprehensive, not because I wasn't sure I could love you. I knew I could do that, but I figured somehow I'd fail you. In my mind, the idea of 'ex-racecar' and 'good father' didn't go together. The day you were born though, for some reason I realized everything would be alright after all."

She smiled sweetly in a fashion so like her mother. "So…you're sure you'll always give a rude fellow that pesters me the ol' 'left hook?'"

"That's a promise, Miss Gracie." he assured and she knew she could believe him entirely. He would never fail her.


	54. Chapter 54

54~

Times brings changes. That was a thought on the minds of everyone. The hoped-for passage of the Interstate was not a blessing. It robbed Radiator Springs and many other small communities of tourism. Cars improved as time went on and found they didn't need to stop at every town for a fill-up at the local station. They bypassed many places and they bypassed Radiator Springs. Even the lure of the famous and majestic Ornament Valley wasn't enough to persuade them to pull off and stop. It seemed like in the grand scheme of things so _little_ time had passed but it was enough. More than enough and when the number of visitors fell lower and lower every year, big changes happened.

The Interstate was a curse.

Soon it seemed like practically ever shop lining Main Street had closed. Fewer lights shone at night. Neon began to flicker more and finally fail. What use was their repairing it when only a dozen outsiders a month came in? Only the most important signage was maintained. Flo kept the vibrant colors on the V8 Café glowing as did Hudson for the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic, although for him it seemed extravagant in a lot of ways, for he didn't even have a patient every day now much less at night. Really the only reason he kept the sign lit in the evening hours would be if somewhere out on the Interstate or along the lonely stretches of Highway 66, someone had an unfortunate mishap.

Likely hardest of all to maintain was a cheerful attitude. Flo seemed to be a natural at it but those closest to her knew that she found what was happening to her town to be depressing. The hillbilly tow truck Mater was always a pretty jolly sort also and relentlessly optimistic. Some could think he was dimwitted or had a "Pollyanna outlook" but he didn't. He saw what was happening to the town and didn't like it either. He just chose to always be grinning and hopeful as the cards of fate fell down around his small corner of the world.

Grace tried to be optimistic also; a trait she had acquired from her mother and kept her whole life so far although it wasn't always simple either. The company of Flo helped her keep cheer and being amidst the other townsfolk at the Café helped brush the worries from her mind for a few good hours. No matter what happened to the town – no matter how few folks came – she would always have her dearest friends. The entire town was really just a big extended family to her.

Hudson had already dealt with too many hard things in his life already to ever have that sort of sanguinity even though he wished he could. His near-fatal crash; being told he was history when he was so young; losing the love of his life because of the cruelty of two delinquents who still lived on in jail… it was all too much for him to see more than a flicker at the end of the tunnel. Despite being one of the younger residents of the town, what he had already lived through made him many times older in outlook and personality but then, Grace was the same in many ways in her quieter hours.

As the years went on the seafoam-green Cadillac whose charm was as obvious as her prettiness accepted only a very small handful of dates from interested male outsiders who voted to stay for awhile in town, but she never had much interest in pursuing any further than a drive or two. Once a Belvedere who seemed more than a touch giddy asked her to marry him but she told him gently she could not accept. Although she had since decided to find a place in the town to live on her own (her father never forced her to, although it was her wish to give him solitude in case he ever again wanted to try dating another – both knew the chance of that was slim), this occasion made her come back to what would always remain her first home. Her father had been alarmed at her tear-streaked hood and had immediately asked what was wrong. He wouldn't hesitate to find whatever fool dared harm his beloved daughter again if that was the case.

"No Daddy," she said softly as she pulled up alongside him in the unchanged room. "No one bothered me."

"What happened then, darling?" he asked. She replayed the day's event in her mind.

"Do you remember Mr. Finn?" she asked.

"The Belvedere?" he inquired. She nodded. "What did he do? What's wrong?" Hudson asked, beginning to seriously worry. If one more punk kid said so much as one rude sentence to the one who would always be his little girl, he'd make that idiot wish he'd been forthright with manners from moment one.

"He didn't do anything wrong, Daddy. He… he…" she hesitated. "He asked me to marry him."

Hudson rose up on his shocks at this entirely different news. "He did? Well, I don't know what's taken a fella this long to ask a lovely girl like you that."

"I cut it off before any other could," she answered quietly.

"What did you tell the young man?" he inquired. Grace felt the tears prick her eyes again. When she blinked one loosed itself and slid down her already damp hood.

"I told him no. I don't love him. I haven't _loved_ any of them. I want the kind of love you and Mama had… it was different than anything else I've ever seen or known. She was tied to you through everything, so committed that she stayed with you throughout that long, long period after your crash. You loved her and are dedicated to her so much that aside from Helen Sparks, you've never spent time with another lady once in these past fifteen years. Can love like that even still exist?"

It was a question no one could hope to know the all truthful answer to, least of all did Hudson know. Those past ten plus five years weren't easy – they were anything but to him. His loyalty to Cornelia was too strong to break past anyway but even if it weren't, he couldn't even hazard a guess at any lady in the time since who had incited some flicker of interest in him. Although he had never assumed in his earliest career years that marriage would be a priority for him he had learned since wedding Cornelia that he was much happier with a mate than without one. There were many things he missed but not enough to replace her – the bona fide love of his life. Finally he came to a conclusion for his daughter.

"Yes honey," he told her. "Love like that is rare but it still exists."

"It's must be a one in a million rare though… look how Lizzie never found anyone else after her Stanley passed." the girl murmured softly.

"I think Lizzie's beliefs run the same as mine in a lot of cases, darling. She loved him more than anything and when he was gone she hadn't the heart to look again. Just because she and I are stubborn though doesn't mean you have to live like that too. Keep your chin up, Gracie. Don't try to compare everything to either of us."

"Don't you understand though?" she asked, fixing her light-blue eyes on his. "That's what I _want_. I don't want some insubstantial relationship. Something that's just light. I want the sort of love both you and Lizzie have had that'll never make you want someone else. What she had with Stanley was special. What you had with Mama was special."

"Happy unions are possible in many other cases though, honey. Look at Flo and Ramone." he pointed out. She shallowly shook her hood.

"It's still not the same. What you had and what they have is still different. What I want is so rare it likely _is_ impossible but I'm going to hold out until I find it. And if I never find it…I'll never marry. I lack nothing really in life so long as I have you, Daddy." she said. Gently she sidled up against his indigo flank. He instinctively leaned slightly to accommodate her. Silence fell for several minutes.

"There's something else I've been thinking about that I want to tell you." she eventually said to break the quiet.

"Yes Grace?" he prompted. She straightened slightly to meet his gentle gaze again.

"I've been thinking this for a little while now but I've been hesitant to say it to you because of what it entails. I… I love Radiator Springs a lot. It's always going to be the only true home for me but…" she paused. Hudson knew the finish to her sentence before she could even go on.

"But you want to see more of what the world has to offer outside of this county and likely even this state." he answered not as a question but as a statement. After a long delay the younger Cadillac nodded in a way that seemed almost regretful. Hudson knew this day would come but that knowing didn't make it any easier. Regardless, the happiness of his sole child stood above all else in his life and he'd never ignore that. "Your life is yours to live, Grace, which also means it's yours to enjoy. You've seen where your grandparents live but there are still a thousand other places to behold beyond their mountains too. For you to go out and see that – to experience all that you hope the world has to offer – that is all I can hope for you also."

"I feel bad though about leaving you. It felt wrong enough to live somewhere else but to leave this town seems like… desertion." she worried. He lovingly nuzzled her.

"No darling, it's not desertion. It's called having courage to find a way other than what you've already come to know in life. Remember what I told you before: I want you to go, not because I want to lose you but because I want you to _live_. And there's something else I do know for a fact." he gently told her.

"Yes Daddy?" she asked.

"These past 15 years haven't been easy on either of us, true, but for you I feel the worst. Living all this time without your mother is something I wish every day I could turn around for you. I only know what I know and even though I promise you I've tried my best, I can't ever hope to have the same level of goodness your mother did. A female is just different. I don't know the answers your mother would give to questions of yours that I likely can't answer the best, but there is one thing I know your mother _would_ say to your decision of wishing to leave."

She silently implored him with her soft blue eyes.

"You can live your whole life doing one thing and have regrets later or you can have courage to try what is difficult. You are your mother's daughter, Grace Hornet. Face the world head on; live your life without any of those regrets and most of all? _Be fearless._ "


	55. Chapter 55

55~

In a quiet place where the rugged mountains glowed warmly at sunset and where the land retained a permanent wild beauty, a DeSoto with unusually beautiful violet eyes reviewed her life so far. She was a divorcée; her disenchanted husband having traded her in for a younger and sportier Dodge Charger a number of years back, because that was just the kind of man he was. She had felt detached from any sort of union like that since his idiocy and felt pretty ill about males as a whole although one solely had succeeded in haunting her thoughts since meeting him in 1965.

He had been the one she'd gone to when her motor had acted up on that trip to see her sister in California and had been what she initially thought to be an oddly silent sort. On their "date" he hadn't exactly been the most talkative in the world and was rather close-mouthed on anything she tried to ask him. Under any other instance Helen could have called such behavior a trifle rude but the explanation the shining proprietress of the station had told her explained everything: he had lost not only his wife but their two unborn children in a nightmarish accident no so very long before.

Helen had never stopped thinking about that and wondered often how she could have fared if something similar happened in her own family. It'd be absolutely awful and there'd be no "getting past it" or truly recovering. Had he ever changed at all, she wondered? The violet-eyed DeSoto had never met anyone since with that deep level of sorrow in their eyes. She remembered clearly the words the station's proprietress had said:

 _"Poor Hudson has a heart that's permanently broke from all that, I think."_

Had his life ever gotten any happier? Any better? She hadn't stopped wondering about that since she had returned from that trip to her sister's. She could either wait forever and not go or…

She could see if there was an answer – one that had a better outcome.

. . . .

She arrived in Radiator Springs – a town she hadn't seen in years – at week's end and as she halted at the stoplight she realized so much had changed. Nearly the entire business district was… dead? Shops were shuttered that had been open at her last visit. And then she remembered: the Interstate. It had killed so much of small-town America since it had carved its way across the countryside. And there were so few travelers who had come in with her. It was such a hub of activity not so long ago.

Her first stop was the still cheerful looking V8 Café run by the same proprietress as before. The beautiful mint-green car assisted her almost instantly and it took all Helen had to not ask about the car who had set her right at her last visit, but there was a time and place for everything. After she finished and paid for her drink she left the Café to take a drive up Main Street to see what else was changed and what she may have recognized. At least the Cozy Cone was still in business and it looked like she wouldn't have too hard of a problem getting a room.

Up at the courthouse she pulled up alongside the fountain statue of who she assumed to be the town's founder by the name of Stanley and looked out over the scenery before her. Suddenly she felt foolish to even come here simply on the urging of something that troubled her for many long years. What right did she have to meddle in someone else's business? She was the trespasser in this situation, wasn't she? He wouldn't even remember her.

She sat with her silent bronze companion for a long while before finally turning her engine over and making to leave. Maybe just _leave_ -leave, not even get a room at the motel. And then she made a promise to herself. If she received no certain sign of needing to stay before the day ended she would leave as quietly as she came.

Before the sun set, she took a long and aimless drive around the surrounding desert and took in the beauty of the Ornament Valley's majesty before finally going back to town. If it'd happen, it'd happen now, she thought as she pulled inconspicuously into the V8 for the second time that day. She didn't have to wait long before she saw him; a striking blue Hudson Hornet whose eyes she swore still held a facet of mystery.

She reacted impulsively with the silent hopes that this move wouldn't be wrong. No one noticed as she carefully reversed from where she had parked and then casually passed behind all the other islands before slowing at the end where the gleaming blue car had stopped. Hoping for the best and expecting the worst she turned and came up beside him a few feet off his right side. He rose up upon seeing an unexpected guest but still greeted her politely if in a slightly confused manner. She smiled graciously and returned pleasantries. "Do you mind if I'm here?" she added with concern. He shallowly shook his shining hood for no. She gently thanked him, knowing a delicate touch would be the answer here. After a fashion she tried to see if there would even be any other rapport.

"I know you probably don't remember me, but I came here many years ago on the way to visit my sister in California. I had a knock in my motor and you're the one who set me right." she softly began. "You told me to drive safely that one day and I've remembered that after all this time. I've been more careful than ever before."

A glimmer of recognition passed over his eyes as he gave her a double take. Those odd colored eyes were memorable. "Now that you remind me, it sounds a little familiar. I don't remember your name though, ma'am."

"Helen. Helen Sparks. And you're Mr. Hornet… am I correct?" she ventured. He shook his hood once more and uncertainty came over her though was quick resolved when he spoke.

"There's really no need for any formality like that anymore, I've realized. Just call me Hudson like everyone else does." he clarified. How well he remembered her now. She was the only one since Cornelia's death that he had gone on a tentative "date" with; an occasion that felt far worse than it did right.

"How is your daughter?" the antique-white DeSoto carefully asked. He thought back to Grace, the one he'd always consider his little girl, and how she had tried just a weeklong trip on her own to another part of the state just to see how it'd feel to be away. She had rethought it over before she went but he had urged her to go – to discover the world she lived in without having to worry about him. She finally accepted.

"She's doing well, thank you." he answered. "I didn't think you'd remember her, Ms. Sparks."

The DeSoto tried a friendly smile on him. "She has to be one of the nicest hostesses I've ever met at a station; it'd be hard to forget her."

The subject of his beloved child made him softly smile in return. "She loves being here. It's the first job she's had and one that's made her very happy also."

"Is today her day off? I've not seen her yet." Helen asked. Hudson gave her the shortened version of where she was off to and perhaps for how long. He hopelessly feigned an untroubled attitude but the wistful tone he had made the truth apparent.

"You miss her a lot, I imagine." Helen offered. "I remember how you both were when I was here years ago. You seemed to have a special relationship."

Hudson lightly nodded. "She means the world to me. I cannot nor do I ever want to imagine what life would be like without her."

From what the proprietress Flo had told her, Helen knew all too well what he meant by this. He had already lost so much that was dear to him that if any fate befell his sole daughter, she knew the indigo car would never be the same.

Helen also knew that pursuing this difficult subject with him was not only hard but wrong and therefore switched gears to something lighter. "You know, I never did have children myself. I guess I never really wanted to… didn't think I'd make good parent material, I suppose. I guess it's really all for the better anyway… my husband seemed to have zero focus on anything important. We were divorced a few years ago. He traded me in for a Charger." The last part she added with a wry sort of laugh. "All I can say is, I hope he's happy. I've never seen two more opposites."

"I'm sorry about that." he answered. "Were you married long?" he added conversationally.

"Almost ten years." she replied. "I guess he hit some premature midlife crisis then in the last few and couldn't deal with me any longer. We never had the most incredible relationship in the world but it was okay for the most part until then."

The blue car nodded once more. "Well," he said after a pause. "I'm glad you were able to have something good for at least that long. I can't imagine…" he trailed off.

"You can't imagine what?" she gently asked.

"Never mind," he sighed in a way that told there was far too much to tell.

Hudson didn't know what to think of the situation at hand. It wasn't typical of his personality to be too friendly with anyone he didn't know well and that hadn't changed simply because his daughter was away other than the fact he felt possibly lonelier than ever before. Ever since Grace had left a couple days prior he realized anew how much he loved her and just the simple knowing that she was in town, safe, gave him plenty solace. Had he grown too accustomed to her presence? Too… _reliant_? The fact of the matter was, he didn't know. Losing Cornelia so tragically certainly made him look at things a lot differently.

"If you ever want to tell me while I'm here… I'll listen. My sister always told me I was a good listener when she needed someone and I consider it one of my best traits, really."

Hudson looked over at the violet eyed DeSoto again who seemed to wear nothing beyond a look of general friendliness. But you never did know if friendliness could hold something else.

"I'll remember that," he told her, noncommittal.


	56. Chapter 56

56~

She had come to him, asking what the best sights were in town. He had initially been disgruntled that she had sought him of all town residents out to ask this question but his polite manners made him admit defeat. He couldn't exactly tell her he was "too busy" when it was clear to anyone with two eyes that the town wasn't exactly a beehive of activity and what few tourists were there certainly weren't breaking down the doors to get to the Mechanical Clinic. There'd been no one since Grace left and that was going on three days now.

"Have you seen Willy's Butte yet?" he asked the DeSoto. She shook her hood for no.

"I've not. I heard about it at the V8 Café but I really don't know the way." she told him, which was all honesty. And yes, she could have asked any of the residents, from the café proprietress to the cheerful tow truck, but had reserved the inquiry for one she hoped to simply befriend during her stay. It was no lie that he had time and so he offered to show her which was something that seemed to oddly please her a great deal, more than such a simple act of hospitality granted, it seemed to him.

"This here's Willy's Butte; many years ago now there would be weekend races – small scale things – held at that track." he informed her, motioning with his now-dusty hood to the vicinity. Helen Sparks came up a few feet off his left side and peered at the sight.

"It's pretty," she said. "Did you ever see many of the races?"

"Once." he told her, vague. She looked away from him, back to the scenery that lie before her and couldn't help but sigh.

"Things with Victor and I weren't the best in the world, as I already told you, but I still wish he had been different. I would have enjoyed being able to travel and see places with him, but he never wanted to leave Wyoming. He was stuck in a rut and I think it took all he had to even travel as far as to take me to the Grand Tetons for an anniversary. He was just odd sometimes."

"You and your sister ever see things?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Sometimes, but she hates getting her paint dirty after that one time we went on a trip. We didn't realize a road had been newly oiled and she drove on it and got her paint filthy. She's the same color I am so it stands out. Even if she wasn't that way though, she's busy with her children. She has 4 of them and has them involved in everything. That alone means she rarely has a spare moment. The last few times I visited her were spent out of the house more than inside. Everyone had their schedule. Enough of that, though. Do you travel a lot?"

 _How much to say, how much to leave out_ , he wondered. "Well," he began. "I've been a few places. I wouldn't consider myself a 'traveler' though." He didn't meet her hesitant gaze, instead looking out over the burn-orange desert sands and beautiful peaks of the Cadillac Range. A long silence fell before he added, "My wife loved it here."

Helen looked back over to him again. The look in his strikingly blue eyes told he partially saw some other time.

"Neither of us was from here but we came to love this place more than our original homes. I wasn't blind to the natural wonder of this place, of the Ornament Valley, but she made me see the beauty. Really _see_ it." he continued.

"Does she still?" Helen softly asked, hoping upon hope she wouldn't make him retreat from this open moment. Such a long silence fell then that the DeSoto was afraid she had overstepped her boundary.

"She does," he finally answered. "That was one of her lasting gifts I've realized. She made me see the goodness always even though in too many moments it was hard to find. I never have found it for some of those times."

"She sounds like a wonderful sort. What's her name?" the DeSoto inquired.

"Cornelia," the blue car replied in a wistful tone. "I never knew love could be such a brilliant and such a… saddening… thing until I knew her."

"What happened?" Helen gently inquired.

The sorrow in his eyes was of the plainest and rawest sort. "I lost her from a terrible accident. She was a rare and beautiful woman in every way." He then looked over to her where she kindly met those haunted blue eyes. "Regardless of how it may not have been the best, the reason I was glad you at least managed to have ten years with your husband before you both went your different ways was because… I only had my wife for five."

Helen gasped. Yes, Flo had told her of the tragedy but had not hinted of the terribly short amount of time the broken blue car had been married. Only _five_ years? With true feelings she told him the only words one could say in that situation but never seemed to mean enough.

"I'm so very sorry," she murmured.

"Thank you," he accepted. "My poor daughter… she was so bewildered once her mother was gone and I did everything I could to take care of her, but I only knew so much and could never substitute for Cornelia. I just hope it'll never seem to her like I failed her any."

"I doubt she'll ever think that way. What I saw of her when I first came here years ago was someone with a good heart and great kindness." Helen told truthfully.

Hudson's gaze drifted back to the sagebrush and cactus dotted landscape before him. "She's the only immediate tie I have to Cornelia; she undoubtedly the most important thing in my life. If something ever happened to her… I think I'd just give up." he sighed before it seemed to Helen he suddenly realized he had been perhaps a little too open with someone he didn't know entirely. He straightened up on his shocks to a more severe stance and motioned with his hood again to the scenery. "Anyhow, this is Willy's Butte. Were you interested in staying for awhile to look around or do you want me to see you back to town now?"

She sense what he likely wanted over all else was solitude so she shook her own hood. "I'll look around and head back later." And then with a gentle smile she added, "Thank you for bringing me out here, Mr. Hornet. I appreciate that."

"Don't mention it, Ms. Sparks." he replied before cranking over his engine to announce his departure.

. . . .

As the old blue car slowly traversed the red-dirt road back to town he could do nothing but mentally censure himself for losing his professionalism and detachment around a visitor to the town and one of the feminine persuasion as well. The last thing he ever liked to engage in was airing dirty laundry and there he'd done it right before her. That was exactly the thing he didn't want to do to anyone. He knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end when Charles Eldorado aired his laundry and it was unpleasant, to say the least. Did having his daughter away mess up his manners that much? He couldn't help but wonder and dread the possibility if it was so.

Helen spent an hour or so looking at the desert around Willy's Butte before heading back to town and ultimately the V8 Café. Once she was there she was instantly greeted and assisted by the vibrant Flo who had few customers aside from she and a yellow Fiat that seemed to be a resident, Helen guessed. After the big-finned car checked up on them she made her way back to the DeSoto and smiled generously. "How's our li'l town suiting you, honey?" she asked.

"I like it. I was here many years back, actually. I'm not sure if you remember me." Helen said. Flo looked at her for a little bit and then nodded.

"It's your eyes that make you most noticeable, honey. I think I remember you."

"I came here on a trip to visit my sister and Mr. Hornet set me straight when I got that knock in my engine." the DeSoto added.

"Ah, I see. No one does that sort of work better than him. I imagine your engine hasn't caused you any problems since, has it?" Flo asked, smiling. Helen found herself smiling back upon the realization.

"I guess you're right. It's been running like a top since then." she admitted.

"Like I said, he does fine work. So, you off to see your sister or comin' back from there?" Flo asked.

Helen lightly shook her hood for a no. "Neither," she answered. "And I'm not sure if the reason I came here is the right one. All those years ago you told me about how Mr. Hornet – Hudson – lost his wife and youngest children in a bad accident and I… I guess I've been haunted all this time later by that. It's such a horrible and such a tragic thing no one should have to suffer. What you said about him being permanently broken-hearted over that has stayed in my mind, retreated at times, but never left. I had to finally act on that and just… I guess I just wanted to hope things were a little better for him now and I had to see for my own sake."

Flo's green eyes were softly empathetic. "I understand, honey, and I think there's something else I should tell you later on. The Café here closes at ten; if that isn't too late for you come on back to see me. I want to talk to you about this in private."

Helen did as Flo asked, returning to her room at the Cozy Cone for the time until then to freshen up from her dust-coated state after driving through and around Willy's Butte. Again she wondered if the reason she came here was proper but tried to console her mind with the thought that whatever Flo would tell her that evening would somehow be what would answer that and determine whether she should stay on longer or whether she should simply pack up and leave, to banish the memories from her head and put Radiator Springs in the past.

She arrived at the V8 Café at the time the proprietress requested and parked patiently to the side until the mint-green car finished recording all sales in a book and then switched off the lights on the two rows of gasoline pumps. Helen noticed less neon than before glowed in town, but one noticeable sign not too far away from the Café was that belonging to the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic. As she waited for Flo to finish up she found herself noticing the word "Valley" slightly flickered periodically.

"I'm glad you came back, honey." Flo said with a soft smile when she finished her work and met Helen with her full attention. "I've had the rest of this evening to remember you and now I do well. You had what I could only call a genuine concern and caring for ol' Hudson when you met him."

"I guess I still do, honestly." Helen admitted. Flo nodded.

"That's why I asked you back here tonight so I could tell you something. You see," she began, "he's never 'got over' losing his wife and their two other little ones, which is absolutely understandable. No one could 'get over' that. All they can do is move past it a little bit. They'll never be able to remove what happened from their mind but they can put it further back enough so they can live and function as most any average soul would. Hudson endured something horrible that'd be hard for anyone, but he was pretty young at that time which made it worse."

"I didn't know he'd only been married five years." Helen observed.

"That's true, and it's a crime. He loved that woman more than most ever get to be loved." Flo pointed out. The DeSoto sighed and nodded, thinking of Victor. "I know that all too well." she replied with a bitter laugh.

"Cornelia was something rare and special in the world as a whole but even more so to him. I don't have a single doubt in my mind that if her fate hadn't come along, they'd be married for life. Till death do we part, sort of thing. Sadly, death parted them too soon. Hudson's been with us here in town a long time now and I guess he'll be here for life instead. He's never shown interest in leaving, which I think many of us are glad of. He's not simply just a talented doctor but if you go beyond that you realize he's a good fellow as a whole. You see that the most when he's with his daughter. He has a sweet personality, even though I doubt he'd think of it in that sort of term. Something I think we all know here though is that he's lonely and he needs a companion."

Helen rose up, confused and not entirely sure what Flo was meaning but the ex-Motorama car swiftly set things right. "Honey, I know it may sound that way but let me be clear: I don't mean a _romantic_ companion. That's the last thing Hudson wants."

"I think it's the last thing I want too. My mind hasn't gone there since my husband and I divorced." Helen offered with a wry little laugh. "Not my thing at this time."

Flo nodded. "I'm sorry about that for you, but I'm glad you understand what I mean. Hudson's devoted to his wife, no matter how many years'll pass with her gone. Aside from his sweet daughter though, who's a grown girl and out doing things on her own now, he doesn't have much in the way of friends. Sometimes he'll come here after work but not often. Most of the time he just goes home. Sure, he gets along well enough with Sheriff here, but there's a difference between a fellow having another guy friend and having a lady friend – non-romantic. Losing his Cornelia made him more solitary, more of a loner, but if he had the chance to have a different sort of company, a caring sort of friend, it's likely he'd appreciate it."

"The poor fellow… I just feel so bad for him." Helen sighed. "That must be so hard."

Flo smiled gently. "It may be hard now but I've a feeling it could be made a little easier. I've a pretty good perception of folks and how they really are, honey, and I can tell you're warm-hearted and a good soul. I don't know how long you plan on staying around here, but for the time that you are, well. Let's just say I think you could be that caring sort of friend to him. Stay real to who you are and I'm pretty sure he'd be grateful. Give it time, but he'll come around."


	57. Chapter 57

57~

"I wanted to thank you again, for showing me the way to Willy's Butte."

Helen had by happenstance crossed paths with the blue Hornet at the far end of town by the courthouse and silent effigy of the town's founder. This crossing she considered lucky for she hadn't any idea when she'd next see the one she was most interested in knowing better. He slowly halted. "As I said the other day, no need to thank me, Ms. Sparks."

She tried an understanding sort of smile. "I know, but I'm still glad you did. I enjoyed it a good deal. It's very pretty countryside. Also…" she tentatively decided to add. He looked at her in a way that wasn't entirely wary yet not entirely sure as well. He practically had figured word by word what she'd eventually say. Instead though, she shocked him.

"Also, I enjoyed hearing what little you told me about your wife. She sounded like such a wonderful lady. In a better circumstance I would have liked to know her, I think. She seems to have been a special sort in this world." the DeSoto went on, recalling what Flo had told her the previous day. Hudson was struck surprised at this response and wasn't quite sure whether or not to encourage it but eventually made his decision.

"She was," he began. "I was very lucky to have her."

Helen nodded. "I'm glad you did have her, though I wish you still did now."

"I have my memories. I can't ask for more than that when anything else is impossible." he answered in a way so painfully truthful she found it a wonder he could even say it. She quickly tried to lighten the subject for delicacies sake at that moment.

"The café owner, Flo, she told me about a waterfall near here. Do you know where it is?" she asked conversationally. He nodded.

"I went to see it once with my daughter."

"What was it like?"

"It was beautiful – something that doesn't seem like it's expected around here."

"Could you tell me how to get there?" she asked, using this tactic instead of seeming as if she was requesting him to show her as she may have for Willy's Butte.

"I could but it's easy to get lost. I can show you if you're interested later on. I have an appointment this afternoon but after that I should have time." he relented.

"If it's no trouble, I'd be grateful." she gently told him, meaning every word in a way she hoped he saw was true.

. . . .

It was beautiful. Far more beautiful than even Helen could have estimated. From its inception hundreds of feet above at the mouth of a river the waterfall tumbled down the cliff. Rainbows danced in the mist. And that mist was nearly like a rainfall. Helen had only sat for a few minutes observing the natural wonder in awestruck silence before she noticed her hood was soaking wet. She glanced over to her companion who had parked few feet away and noticed the endless collection of water drops puddling up and sliding down his dark blue paint.

"I didn't think I'd get such a shower today!" she laughed. "It's just so beautiful here. Gorgeous, really. I never saw anything this amazing in Wyoming but then Victor was the homebody."

"I'm glad you enjoy what our community has to offer." he told her with the lightest of smiles.

"I've been pleasantly surprised." she said. "I know what you'll likely say to this but, thank you for taking the time to give me a tour of it all. It means something to me."

He refrained from the typical answer he'd given and said what meant more. "You're welcome."

In this place where there was no one to listen in, to get the wrong idea, she added what she hoped wouldn't overturn what small rapport she'd gained with her companion. "I've enjoyed your company, also."

"I'm not much in the ways of company." he answered, plain.

She noticed the mist was building up some pretty darn big puddles on her hood and gave it a little shake to dispel them. She also saw that the same was happening to her companion although he hadn't moved in the slightest, sitting silently, the puddles only moving when they grew too large and gravity forced them to spill over and down his sides. Whether it was right or wrong, she found herself shifting nearer to him, a respectful distance still but closer. Her violet eyes met his blue.

"Don't think that. You _have_ been good company and when I said I've enjoyed it, I mean that." she told him.

"I don't think I've said too much else aside from the names of the mountain ranges and that's not all that interesting when things are said and done." he replied.

"You've told me something else though that you left out just now. You told me about your wife, someone you loved and still love dearly. The adoration in your voice when you speak of her is clear and to hear dedication like that after so many years have passed? It's something beautiful, Hudson." she softly said. "Lucky be any woman who's spoken of with such love."

A long moment of silence passed as both looked on at the waterfall before them, Helen seeing it for what it was and Hudson looking past it. When the indigo car finally spoke, the DeSoto quietly listened.

"Sometimes I still think it's hard for Grace and me to accept she's gone – even though it's been well over ten years. She took it so hard, seeing her mother the way she was after expecting her home from a harmless trip to see her parents. The folks in town can think what they want but I will never consider myself excellent at my job. How can I when I was able to do nothing to save my poor daughter's mother?"

Helen remained silent, knowing he didn't seek an answer anyway. So much he had said was a mystery to her, unknown entirely, but she knew to not press the point instantly. He would either tell or the chance would not come at all and she would have to accept that. The only thing she ended up asking after a fashion was about Grace's siblings, for she hoped against hope that perhaps what Flo had told her was wrong. A mistake… someone else's tragedy.

"I cannot imagine how it must have been for her." Helen started. "Does she have any brothers or sisters; someone else who could have shared the weight of the nightmare with?"

Hudson shook his hood for no before Helen had even finished speaking. The mist-water puddles spilled off his hood and down off the end of it. "No," he said. "She's my one and only. That's another reason why I am so protective of her, no matter her age. I couldn't stand losing another one."

Helen had not planned on prodding him for any other details on this either but for some reason or another, he did. What she didn't realize was that in some small form, he realized he was able to trust her. "Grace wouldn't have been my 'one and only' if things had been different." he began. "My Cornelia always teased me in that kind and wonderful way she had about wanting a dozen children. When Grace was born she said later, 'One down, eleven to go.' I think we both knew there wasn't any way we could support or even cope with the reality of twelve, but it was something signature for her to say, something that we shared. On her last day, when she was brought in from the accident, one of the things she said to me was that. The terrible things that had happened to her were not only sure to kill her but they also already did their part for her condition. She suffered a miscarriage; would have had twins, another girl and a boy, had things been… different. I'll never forget her response to the knowing of that. She was so damaged and must have been in unfathomable pain from everything… she cried so much that the banks of the Rio Grande could have washed over. There before me lay not just another patient, not just another lady, not just another horror I could hope to eventually forget. No. She was my stricken daughter's cherished mother and my hoped-for lifelong mate. She then looks up with those beautiful eyes and says in a voice I fear I'm forgetting, 'It would have been three down, nine to go. Right?' I couldn't answer her, I couldn't. And we both knew that."

His tone was one so defeated, so sorrowed, that anyone who cared would have been torn from the message told. His stance had changed to match it, no longer was it strong although that strength alone was an act that had to be feigned over and over again. Helen was not the forward sort she had been in her younger days, but a glimmer of something like it still remained. Nearer still she came, slowly she pulled up a few inches away from the side of the sleek blue coupe. Gently she rested her fender up against his, which she saw at this close proximity was decorated with a stunning amount of scratches, what looked like far too many given his profession. Another story; another time. Her gesture was not borne of a romantic interest or romantic love but what she realized at that moment was love all the same. For her, a sweeter sort of love, purer.

Although for Hudson the gesture was unexpected, he was too well mannered and too beaten to straighten or lean the other way. He realized at that moment while watching the waterfall flow eternal that everything the townsfolk had said was true. Since his wife's death he had been lonely and since his daughter's departure to see the world outside of her birthplace, he had grown lonelier. What he had thought of just a couple days prior he realized was also true. He loved his daughter beyond words, loved her for who she was, loved her for being the only tie he had left with Cornelia, loved her for being the only child he'd ever have. But, he _had_ grown accustomed to her presence. Dependent. Reliant.

After his wife's death he had retreated further from socialization in town but especially socialization with any other of the feminine persuasion. No matter the exchange anything since had seemed almost a betrayal to Cornelia, his nearest companion. But was it really? This he had to question himself and face the idea head-on. Was the potential having of a female friend – someone who understood things differently than a guy would – was it bad? It didn't seem as if it would be, but realistically he couldn't entertain the idea. Helen Sparks, the DeSoto with oddly violet eyes, was not a resident of the town or even the state.

 _Don't get your hopes up for something,_ he thought. _Soon enough, she'll be gone too._


	58. Chapter 58

58~

Sleep did not come quickly for Helen Sparks that evening. She had been sitting silently in her cone at the motel well past ten o'clock; her mind churning through everything that had happened that day and all that she had heard. She had hoped for an impossible sort of better for the indigo-blue Hornet but instead had received confirmation of what the V8's proprietress had told her: Hudson's heart was surely permanently broken.

As Helen sat there, remembering the earlier talk, her thoughts kept returning to the reality he had told of his wife's last day and her bitterly sad rally of if their expected twin children had lived, there would have been "three down, nine to go" in their shared humor of a dozen. _"Grace wouldn't have been my one and only,"_ he had told her. It was such a stark and very cruel wrong set upon him.

The violet-eyed DeSoto thought also of her ex-husband, Victor. She sorted through the remembrances of her nine-year marriage, how okay she had thought it had been until faced with something different to compare it to. Hudson had, very obviously, treasured his wife; loved her so deeply and so dearly that he never would have left her for another, as Victor had done to her. Helen assumed because of examples in her life that marriage didn't last forever and "wedded bliss" was more or less an urban legend. How happy was her sister, despite her four children she had involved in seemingly everything? Her spouse didn't seem all that engaged with it all in the long haul.

Helen had seen something different though this day; had seen that evident sort of love following the bond of "till death do us part." She though back also to that moment at the beautiful waterfall and how when the tale of his family's tragic fate had been told she had felt such an overwhelming sorrow, all she could do to show her sympathy and concern was to come nearer, placing her fender against his own. The most startling thing she discovered during these silent moments was that she felt something that could only be known as a love and genuine sort of care she had never felt for Victor.

Was it wrong though for her presence to make him dredge up the past pains, or were they never buried that deeply to begin with? She had felt that perhaps, there was indeed a reason she had been lured back to Radiator Springs, but knew to not be hasty or presumptuous.

Time never failed to tell.

. . . .

Helen was not the only one who found sleep elusive that night. Not far from the motel in a silent room sat Hudson who was not tired from the day so much as from all that it had contained. With his daughter away he had no one else to reflect on the events with; no one else who could dissect or clarify how something had truly seemed. He had himself to face, himself only. Was what had happened that day right, or did it hold some warning of wrong from him oddly enough becoming more candid, oddly honest, with her than practically anyone else aside from the townsfolk he knew closest? Was it irresponsible to tell her, a mere visitor to the town? He was plenty old enough to know it was foolish to entertain any idea of someone that seemed kindly and decent sticking around for practically no reason.

And what she had done kept coming back to him also. He had maintained no interest in any romantic union – a feeling that wouldn't change – but for some reason when the DeSoto had placed her fender gently against his own he perceived not a romantic interest at all, but something for him that meant far more. It was a gesture that was loving but in a different way, something more caring and more consoling. Aside from Grace he hadn't really been the receiver of that sort of friendliness from any other since Cornelia's death. Of course the more-or-less solitary existence he'd soon chosen afterward warranted that there weren't too many chances for such to occur anyway.

All he did know, with surety, was that telling the horror of his wife's last day to someone who had never known of the tragedy (unlike the townsfolk) had been a relief in some certain way. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the counsel of his neighbors but they had all known her and so it seemed that day in 1959 never had a chance to fade much. It was relived over and over with any word spoken since they had all known Cornelia.

Helen did not know her though. And although it was unexpected and initially had rather even startled him, her gesture when she had pulled up beside him to lay her fender against his own was what he felt only as uncomplicated comfort and he realized that evening something he never thought he'd recognize in such a situation.

He had been grateful.

. . . .

Flo noticed also that despite her short presence in the town, Helen Sparks must have done something different for Hudson because it wasn't often he would fraternize at the V8 since his wife's death and yet there he was that morning with Luigi and Lizzie. She was pleasantly surprised to see him deciding to partake of the morning company. After giving the Fiat his asked for, she turned and drove over to where he sat. True, he still preferred a solitary park but he was there all the same. "Why, ain't it fine to see you here this fine morning, Hudson." she greeted with her hospitable smile.

"I guess I can't stay cooped up all the time, Flo." he answered with a glimmer of his handsome smile she hadn't seen in its entirety in too long. She was glad of this.

"Got a busy day ahead of you?" she inquired. He shook his hood lightly for no.

"Doesn't appear to be anything so far," he answered. "But of course, that may change." Both knew though that ever since the Interstate had declined the town's visitors, the chance of that change happening was very nearly nil. But Flo would always keep a bright outlook.

"Did Helen enjoy the waterfall? She told me about wanting to see it." the mint-green car began.

"I took her; she seemed to like it a good deal." he answered.

"What about you, Hudson? Did you have a nice time?" she gently asked. Within his mind he conflicted whether or not to let on how he had actually felt but finally opted for truth. What was really all that awful about admitting things had gone better than he'd imagined?

"I did," he allowed albeit with a cautionary tone as if he himself still was unsure if that was fact. She didn't notice this uncertainty if it showed though. Instead she offered him a warmer sort of smile and said, "I'm glad to know that, Hudson. We all wish for a li'l more happiness in your life."

Helen Sparks' first destination of the day was the V8 although she didn't expect to see anyone else that she was familiar with aside from Flo so it came as a genuine shock to her to pull into the drive and see the unmistakable profile of the blue coupe at the far end, where she had initially seen him on her first night in. She was glad to see him but tamped down her excitement and simply pulled into the space on the other side of him, separated by the middle island. "Hello, Hudson." she greeted gently, pairing this with a warm smile.

He seemed a little shocked to see her although not in the sort of way that would have made him leave. With his common good manners he returned a salutation to her.

"I didn't expect to see you this morning," she began, peering around the fuel pump to meet his eye. "Although I don't exactly see you the best in the world." she added with a laugh.

What he said next would be something he knew he'd go over a hundred times in the following hours but out of kindness he said it all the same. "Well, if you want to park over here on the other side of me, there's plenty of room. I don't reckon I have any reason to mind."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"It's alright," he told her. Abiding this she left her spot and then pulled up on his right side, though still maintained a respectful distance. "I enjoyed your company the other day," she began. "The waterfall was very beautiful."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." he said and shocking himself went on to add, "If there's any other landmarks around here you want to see, just ask me. I'm never too busy anymore and I wouldn't mind taking you."

She was astonished at this sort of reply but graciously answered despite her admitted joy. "Thank you, Hudson." she told him. "You're a very kind gentleman."

Flo intercepted the pair before any more could be said and when both refused anything at the moment, the DeSoto decided to press her luck, so to say, and see if she'd be lucky enough to get any different answers to some of the questions she'd asked upon their first meeting. Keeping it all casual still was a comfortable best choice.

"Have you been the town's doctor long?" she tossed out.

"Well over fifteen years now. After my first career… ended… I was out of work for quite awhile. Prior to this I had married and when my wife later became pregnant with our daughter, it was plain there'd have to be some changes made. We moved out here and I took this job since the doctor before had retired, I understood."

"What was your first job?" Helen innocently asked, curious as to why his tone had changed upon mentioning it.

"It's nothing important, not worth talking about." he quickly answered. This response perplexed her but she knew to not push it.

"Alright, I can understand that." she reassured. "Do you like your job now?"

Vastly relieved at the subject change he nodded albeit shallowly. "A job like this is the way I've repaid my debts for things that happened once long ago. I do the best I can because of it, even though I could do nothing for her." Cornelia's name didn't have to be spoken for both to know.

"I think you've done some very fine work. I don't think my engine has ever run better." Helen offered to brighten the mood.

"I'm glad it's held out for you."

A comfortable silence fell with both watching a rather animated conversation further over between Guido and Luigi before one of the two decided to speak. Surprisingly enough the party was not Helen. Hudson turned his attention to her with a question in his striking azure eyes that the DeSoto implored silently with her pair of violet.

"What made you decide to return to Radiator Springs, Helen? I don't believe you've really told me yet."

She bit the inside of her mouth, knowing this would come and debated how to answer it. Would saying the truth jeopardize the trust she felt she'd gained with him? Would partly lying be better? But the truth was always given to come out, she knew. The chance would have to be taken now.

"Well," she began. "After Victor and I divorced I just had a lot of time to think about things, I guess. I've been mad at him a lot even though our marriage wasn't all that great to begin with, and I guess I've also wondered where I went wrong. Not that I could have changed him or not that I even _want_ him back, because I don't. I think it's just a woman's way though… to think she did something wrong to make her spouse turn. So, I went through that phase for a while and I've been unhappy since everything happened."

She looked back to see him reviewing at her with a non-judging expression which she found encouraging. "Recently though I guess I've been reminiscing and remembering things from the past, and not just with Victor when things were better. I've never forgotten coming here all that time ago. It struck me as such a welcoming town with so many kind residents in it. But… there's one thing in particular that made me come back."

"Is that right?" he asked. She lightly nodded and met his blue eyes.

"I never forgot you." she ventured. "Of course I'm grateful for how you fixed me up, but that wasn't the real reason I never forgot. I've never failed to remember how you just… you looked so sad then despite this great effort you took to keep courageous. I never knew then what could have caused this," she said, leaving out what Flo had told her for propriety sake. "But I've been haunted by it for all these years. On the eve of the New Year, Victor would always toast in "wealth and health" but I'd silently hope that particular year would be better for you… that whatever had happened would grow less painful with time. And… I had to finally see for myself."

She looked back to him again and met his gaze fully, saying what would either ruin the friendship formed, or strengthen it.

"You're the reason I returned."


	59. Chapter 59

59~

Hudson was naturally wary of what Helen Sparks had to said to him, that he was the reason she had returned. He didn't know in what form or what direction that simple phrase could go, but if it went further than her simple friendliness – which he appreciated – he'd strongly dislike that. That was guaranteed.

Thankfully he hadn't an instant opportunity to see what would pan out from those words, for at week's end, the whole town gathered to greet Grace as she cruised back into her hometown. A brilliant smile was gleaming across her front and she shouted salutations to all of her friends, but the moment Hudson politely pushed to the head of the group, her eyes lit up to match her smile. Slowly she approached him and her silent greeting spoke volumes as she closed her eyes and placed her fender up against his in a gesture so plainly loving that every heart nearby was warmed. Before she withdrew she gave him a kiss and then said, "I missed you so much, Daddy."

He bridged the slight gap between them to give her a loving nuzzle. "You have no idea how much I missed you, darling. I just hope you had a nice time."

"I did, I really did. And I just have so much to tell you."

After Grace had sufficiently greeted each and every one of the townsfolk, she returned home with her father at the Ornament Valley clinic. There had been no business that day, but then that was normal and she questioned this not. "So," her father began once they were away from the bustle of town and in the quiet of the indoors, "Tell me everything, honey."

The young Cadillac looped around to pull parallel to her father and couldn't help but laugh. "I saw so much, I barely know where to start. Well, one of the most first things I saw was the San Francisco Peaks. They're just so big and so grand. Also they were really snowy. I didn't dare travel too far on those roads. Legend tells that if you're at the very top, you can see the city of San Francisco. I thought that sounded a little fishy but didn't question the guide. He rather acted like he knew it all, so…" she trailed off, smiling.

"One of those." he father replied, understanding. "Something tells me your mother would likely be the same way, except she may actually have demanded to know the truth."

Grace laughed once more. "I think she would have too. Of course I had to go see the Grand Canyon also. It's even more amazing than in the photos. I met a nice family there would have been to the park several times in the past and even let me come along with them to see their favorite sights. Their littlest boy was so cute… one of the first things he said to me was, 'Gee, you're pretty!' I think I blushed."

Hudson offered his daughter a smile and answered, "Well, sounds like to me the kid's got good sense to appreciate a beautiful young lady like yourself, Grace."

" _Daddy!_ " she fired back.

"I'm only telling you the honest truth, darling." he casually answered.

Their talk continued until the evening began to fall and Hudson realized how being away had been something the girl had needed. She had to leave behind the town of her best and worst memories to get another chance to see the world anew and with hope. Her vibrancy at being with others and seeing different scenery was something he was grateful to witness even though losing her for that span of time was hard. He knew then that he had become too reliant on her, for a variety of reasons. She was the only living tie to Cornelia which is something that made her even more precious and dear and the fact she was his one and only child in general added to how deeply he treasured her and was admittedly rather overprotective of her. Entire lifetimes had passed for many without ever facing the horrors of a fatal accident and whilst he'd always remain cautionary and would never lose his reasonable fear, he had to not let that rule his life, and his daughter's life as well. He would always love her more than anything else in his life, but love would also mean he'd learn how to slowly let her go.

. . . .

Helen stayed on in Radiator Springs longer than she had planned and seeing this, the proprietor of the Cozy Cone gave her a discounted rate for the one month she had stayed which turned to two. Being in a different community and place came as a relief for her in ways she hadn't imagined. Back home in Wyoming, remembrances of Victor lingered even though he was out of her life and also her town. Sometimes there she'd still find traces of the life they had once shared and it would set her mood into an upsetting place. Detaching hadn't come easy. That restaurant they had once gone to. The local drive-in they had seen a picture at. That was where his friends lived, who had once been her friends until the divorce. Then they had looked at her as the evil-doer and an unfit wife who made her husband leave. They victimized him and criticized her. She had purposefully found routes to go around their home but still was sometimes apprehended by an ugly look at other venues around the town. Her union with Victor just never got the chance to die, it seemed. How she wanted it to.

Now that she had been surrounded by others who had never known him and their marriage, she felt relief and knew she couldn't be wrongly judged by a soul. No one looked at her rudely or murmured things behind her. The only thing she could really say, no matter how hokey, was that she felt _free._

Her relations with the blue Hornet had stayed comfortable and it was unsaid yet understood that they both had learned to trust one another in varying degrees over the pasts they both had had. He accepted the wrongs that had been wreaked upon her by her ex-husband and past friends with gentlemanly commiseration. She to his with gentleness of the same.

"I hadn't ever expected I'd get married when I did. I wasn't actively seeking anyone at that time and likely wouldn't have until some years later but then I met her. Everything changed. I thought the idea of love at first sight was impossible but… I swear I felt that way when I first saw Cornelia." he told her one day.

"How do you remember it?" Helen asked.

His striking eyes slipped shut upon the posed query, as if within his mind at that moment he called upon that moment to play like a decades old movie. And perhaps it did. A nostalgic light lit his azure irises upon looking out to the world once more. "She was shy at first but had strength in her that still blazed in her eyes. I hope I'll never forget her eyes… I don't think a green as deep and wonderful as they exist on this here world. They're what caught me first, I think. The way she behaved, with such sweetness and goodness, I knew at that moment I met someone special. Someone who was different than any other lady I'd met. Of course at that time, I had to be realistic and realize that I'd likely never see her again, and that there was no telling how she felt about me. She could have thought me the craziest chassis on four wheels, for all I'd know." Helen smiled softly at this idea. He continued, "All I knew was, when I saw her again and she actually wanted to spend time with me, I felt like the luckiest fellow in the world. I felt honored to be with her and would never once think less. If it wasn't love at first sight, it surely came later because by the time I saw her just a few other occasions, I'd fallen. She left to go back home and I knew if she ever came back I'd have to eventually make a move. The idea of her being taken by another was my worst fear at that time. When she returned for good, moving from her hometown, I knew there was no better chance. I asked her to marry me on the grounds of where we first met, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst."

"And you got the best. The best that you could ever asked for." Helen filled in, offering the indigo coupe a soft smile. He nodded.

"The very best. I only regret now that I hadn't asked her sooner so we could have had a little bit longer time together."

She looked to the mountains and wonders of the Ornament Valley beyond them and then turned back to her companion. She realized at that moment what had happened since she had returned and borne witness to the life of someone who had been so different than anyone else she'd ever known. She was privy to a tale of love that was of the rarest and most genuine sort. How lucky to know something like that, she thought time and again. She become conscious of the fact that as the time had gone by she had loved Hudson deeper and deeper. She had never loved Victor like this, even in the earliest years of their union. What she felt for the gentle-tempered car with a heart "permanently broken" was what she understood true love must really be like. She had lost faith in anything like it after her divorce and retreated from anything even hinting of it but now she had come to know someone who, if he hadn't suffered such a tragic past, she would have gladly given her heart to again.

"You lived the most beautiful love story I'll ever know, Hudson." she told him that evening. So beautiful, that no matter what, she wouldn't jeopardize it with her own interference. He had a special sort of union with his sole child; he had honorable dedication to his lost wife. He would never set those aside.

But for Helen Sparks, she knew that night that as long as she lived, a haunted indigo car known as Hudson Hornet who had lived a life no one should face, would be always her first true love.


	60. Chapter 60

60~

Grace remembered Helen better than most of the townsfolk had, likely because she had been the one to encourage her father to go on an afternoon "date" with her so many years back. She hadn't expected to see the violet-eyed DeSoto ever again, but was interested when she did.

Helen told the Cadillac a little of why she had come back yet had tread lightly with details all the same so as not to seem upsetting or as if she was overstepping the invisible boundary marking respect and honor for the deceased Cornelia. No matter how Helen may have felt for Hudson, the promise she had made to herself was to love silently; to never tell. If she did, she knew what had been formed in their young friendship would be shattered. That was the last thing she wanted to have happen, for the sake of both. In a strange parallel, he had come to trust her enough to bare the pain that had shadowed his life like a mournful ghost; she loved him enough to respect him and conceal a dangerous sort of feeling that would be nothing but disastrous.

She thought she was hiding things well from Grace, but the younger car was wiser than most and saw through the cover. She witnessed a few exchanges between he and Helen and deciphered what the DeSoto would never be first to say. Seeing this, she asked the older car to meet with her on her day off from the V8 as a time to know each other better but also to confirm her suspicions.

The two ladies took an afternoon drive together, Grace offering to show her one of the pullouts that had the loveliest view of the entire Ornament Valley. The DeSoto was nothing short of amazed when they finally got to it and looked out upon the red-rock desert with silent awe. There must have been places as lovely in Wyoming too, she thought, but Victor just had never thought to take her. How grateful she was to come here for so many reasons. Her thoughts were broken when from the corner of her eye she saw the sleek seafoam-green Cadillac draw beside her and the pale blue eyes belonging with it turn to her. "Helen… there's something I want to talk to you about while we're here." the younger car started.

Helen felt instantly worried. Had she said or done anything wrong or potentially even callous? Hastily she skimmed through every recent day in her mind. Grace saw her concern and gave the older car a reassuring nudge with her fender. "Don't worry. Everything's alright. I just want to talk to you about something I've realized." she consoled.

"Alright, go ahead." Helen prompted, still remaining unsure. The eyes of the two met and when that silent connection was formed, the Cadillac smiled softly.

"You've come to love my father, haven't you?" she asked. Helen startled at having this addressed aloud when she thought she had done so well concealing her feelings. She felt as guilty as if she committed a crime to admit it, but knew lying to this young lady, the daughter of the subject, would be in itself a misdeed.

"I will be honest, Grace. I have." she quietly admitted. "How did you know? I was trying so well to not let on."

Grace looked out to the valley before them, knowing indirect address would work best with the DeSoto for the complicated subject. "When you're together, it's plain to me. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you smile, and also in the gentle ways you approach him in talk and in action. You're so kind and so considerate of him; he deserves that sort of treatment after everything that happened to us in 1959. Neither of us, of course, will ever forget what happened but… what it did to my father was something that barely can be described. He's hurt permanently from losing Mama. She meant the world to him. If they had both been traveling together on the day of her accident, I know he would have endangered himself before letting anyone harm her. Although I was too young to remember much of anything in the years before this, I always felt comforted by the presence of both because they always got along, it seems. I'm sure maybe there were moments they hid from me, but from my first memories on towards the night before she left to visit my grandparents, they never spent a night away from each other's sides. On their first wedding anniversary since I was born, I got to spend the weekend with Flo, which was something I remember being so glad about. I loved her then and I love her now for the ways she became a second mother to me. I was little, but I helped her out the best I could then. One night I remember they both came to the Café together, Mama and Daddy, and you know, they had this way about them I can see looking back that was a timeless sort of love. If you had the chance to see them together, Helen, you'd know this too. They looked like they'd been married years and years. I think it was one of those things in their early days where neither thought they needed each other, but once the chance came for them to be together, they couldn't imagine anything different."

Helen nodded silently, knowing this to be far truer than she could hope to say from all she had come to know since coming to the small town. Grace let an appropriate pause fall before speaking again.

"It may seem presumptuous to say this but I really believe that my mama and my daddy would have been with each other their whole lives, until they drove their last mile. They had dedication that I think must be rare. Mama was everything to him. She was his mate, his confidante and his dearest friend. Then in one day he lost part of the world, I think. He lost her and he lost my youngest siblings. He'll rarely ever mentions the babies because dredging up too much of that hurts him more than he already does. There are so many nights when I would go to sleep but I actually wouldn't be sleeping. I can't tell you how many of those evenings I watched him silently cry. He hid it from me in waking hours because he feared it'd be "burdensome" to me because I had such a hard time working through my own grief. He tried his best to have such courage, but it was impossible."

Helen felt herself blink back her own tears. "Flo said to me that she believes his heart's permanently broken." she whispered.

"I think it is, too. But, this is where you come in, Helen." the Cadillac said. The DeSoto tried to meet her with a clear-eyed gaze. "My father will never love another in a romantic way. I hope you understand that."

"I do," Helen promised. Grace nodded with satisfaction.

"He will never love another like he did my mama, but he deserves to be treated with love. He's the saddest car I've ever known and to be given that kind of affection is something he needs more than he'll ever say. He deserves something like the comfort and gentleness you show towards him and although he is private and reserved, I know he's grateful. The longer you know him I'm sure you'll see how loving and sweet he is also, which are qualities that sadden me more because I know how hard it is for him to be alone. Loving another romantically though he considers a betrayal to her. He appreciates you though, which is the most he can do given his promise towards my mama. Don't be afraid to love him though. He needs that. Just promise us both that the love you show will never go beyond friendly. He'll be thankful and trust you greater because of it."

Helen blinked, this time losing the fight with the tears that had pricked her eyes. One traced its way down her antique-white hood. She tried a half-hearted effort to shake it free but didn't succeed. "I promise you both," she said, meaning it. "I won't ever imperil what I've gained. I hope you don't mind though that… that your father is the first man I've ever truly loved. I thought what I had with my ex-husband was love. I realize now it wasn't. It wasn't even a ghost of love. It was some glimmer substituting for it but never grew to become it. Your father though… he's what I never thought existed. He's kind-hearted, puts importance on what matters most to him, and he's a gentleman. I know it probably seems odd to hear about your father in terms like this, but it's true for me. I came here because I remembered him, but I had no interest in love after my husband divorced me for someone much younger. Love was something I wrote off my list. I didn't plan on ever finding it again or daring to possibly feel it. Here I did though. I realized what real love actually is. But, I truly will never forget your father now."

"I don't mind." Grace softly said. "I'm glad you two can be simply friends though. I think you both need that more than you know."

. . . .

Helen returned to town some time after Grace took her leave and as she slowly drove back all she could think of were the words the Cadillac had said. She was struck by the level of love the younger car had for her only remaining parent – a deeper sort of caring and something almost like defending of him from anything potentially harsh in life outside of what he had already faced. She'd never met a child who thought that dearly of their parent. Surely her own nieces and nephews didn't treat her sister like that. Helen saw that Grace was a particularly rare sort of child, and possessed the best qualities from both of her parents. She realized again how much she wished she had been able to know, just once, the treasured Cornelia.

The first car by happenstance to meet her in town was Hudson, for better or for worse. He looked at her with a questioning gaze and asked genially if she was alright. That was when the DeSoto noticed the plain tracks of the tears streaking her pale hood from where the fine red dust had clung earlier on. She found she couldn't look at him upon this discovery and sorted quickly for an adequate excuse.

"I just was thinking about a lot of different things… my past." she offered. At least this was not fully a lie. She had considered such. What he said next she did not expect.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

This made her finally look up to meet the gentle gaze of his cerulean eyes. "I…" she hesitated. "I don't know. There's too much to tell I think that would take too much time."

"I have nothing else to do tonight except either sit at the V8 or sit in my garage alone and be tortured by my own past." he told her with that blunt honesty she found so painful. He tried a soft smile on her and added, "You've been kind to hear me out. I'm grateful, Helen. The least I can do is the same for you."

. . . .

They parked facing the west at the iconic Willy's Butte, a place silent and suitable for contemplation and talk ever since the races there had ended. Helen was unsure of how to start first but once she found the right direction to go, the floodgates opened wide.

"I don't know why I still am bothered by Victor leaving me for her. He and I weren't even a good fit, I see it now. We were so opposite. I should be glad he's out of my life, but even though I am I feel I've been too reluctant to give it up."

"Maybe you don't miss him so much as you miss something else?" Hudson offered. A chill wrapped its way around her heart as if ice had suddenly frosted it. How had he known something like that?

"I think…" she eventually replied. "I think that's true. I miss a 'what-could-have-been.' Not what I had, but a possibility if things were different."

He looked over to her with that same gentle gaze she felt calm under. It was so non-judging. "I understand, Helen. I think if we all looked hard enough we'd find there's a 'what-could-have-been' we wished for." he replied. "I have mine, of course."

She nodded silently. "I don't miss Victor, but I miss the idea of what we could have had. I wish I'd had what you had. That love you and Cornelia had… it's so rare." Her eyes drifted to the slightly dulled with age gold wedding band encircling his left chrome rim; a feature as permanent to him as any of his other natural trims.

"Love like that is still possible." he said. "I've told my daughter the same. It exists."

She nodded once more, unable to speak. Love like that may indeed have been possible, she knew. The car right beside her she had grown to care for greater than any other. She knew she'd feel that degree of affection for no one else.

She spent the rest of that day talking, remembering and last of all, admitting. Being in Radiator Springs had cleared her mind more than her daily life in her and her ex's shared hometown. She saw things anew with fresh perspective. "Your daughter… she's such a brilliant young woman." Helen said.

"She's a wonderful girl. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to call myself the father of someone like her." he replied.

"You should always be so proud. I would be too if I had someone like her. If that were the case, I wouldn't have minded having children, but what stopped me more than anything I now know is that I didn't want them raised in an environment with Victor. He wasn't cruel – I don't mean that – I just know he wouldn't be very involved with a child. They wouldn't be his top priority. All the same, I'm a bit sorry now I missed my chance."

"You may not have. Keep hope there'll be a second chance." he told her. She hesitated at what demanded to be asked next, hoping it wouldn't be damaging to the moment. She could only hope the trust formed would be lasting.

Meeting his blue eyes with hers of violet, she softly inquired. "Do you ever wish you'd have a second chance, Hudson?"

He knew what she meant without further explanation. "I treasure Grace and realize I am far happier with her than I'd be without. I would also have been very glad to call myself the parent of her brother and sister. Cornelia and I both knew we could never manage a dozen children but I'd have been very happy with three. Four if she absolutely demanded it. If I hadn't chosen to stay devoted to her though and had married another, would I have had other children? No. I'd be too afraid to try."

Feeling more sure of their union and as if she knew he wouldn't perceive it as forward in the wrong way, she leaned slightly towards him and as she had done at the waterfall softly lay her fender against his. "I'm sorry, Hudson." she murmured. "It feels so inadequate a term for all you've suffered, though."

"Thank you, Helen," he told her, "for your sympathy but also for being kind and listening. Everyone here in town lived the day my wife was brought in from her accident and although I am grateful for the goodness they've shown my daughter and I, it's difficult all the same. Because they saw it all, there never is much of a chance for me to let that day die. Of course, I'll never forget it. I'd like to, but I can't. You didn't live through that all though and you never knew Cornelia, which in its own way is something like relief. I've been grateful for that…. never realized how much I needed it. I have to thank you."

She met his striking eyes at this nearer proximity. "I only wish I could do more." she answered with honesty. "You've helped me more than I thought I needed as well. My divorce upset me and I haven't had much courage when it comes to moving on in certain ways. You didn't know it all like so many in my town do. That's a relief for me, too." This she paired with a warm and grateful smile as she straightened from his side. Her gaze then shifted out momentarily to the desert beyond. Here in this town she had finally found a measure of peace and revived happiness, even though much was entwined in sorrow.

"You're welcome, Helen." he told her. She returned her attention towards him and turned slightly to face him easier.

"Please don't misinterpret me when I say this; I mean it from the point of view of simple appreciation. You're the first true gentleman I've ever known. Victor wishes he had the warmth and goodness you show. The longer I've been here I have come to see how very lucky Cornelia was to have someone like you. You both were made for each other, of that I have no doubts. Your shared love was too rare and too beautiful to say otherwise. I've considered myself very lucky to gain you for a friend. No matter what, I'll never forget you."

Before fear could stop her, she leaned over and bestowed a soft kiss upon his scratched fender. What had caused such a profusion of marks was a story she imagined she'd never hear. Hudson was admittedly startled by the unexpected affection yet didn't outwardly present it. She had offered such a gesture before, he remembered now, and although it was unanticipated to him he took a sum of solace from the fact none of her actions so far spoke of a romantic intent. Still though, it was difficult for him, such friendliness was. With painful vividness it made him recall his cherished Cornelia, his one and only.


	61. Chapter 61

61~

While in one town the feelings of love and attraction were quietly hidden, in another they were shown in the style befitting of the one professing, a style that had not been buried away from light in now fifteen years.

The sunset-orange long stemmed rose, held rakishly in the teeth of a golden Cadillac, was a clear symbol of love to Mary Ellen, the receiver. She found herself smiling almost shyly, despite the fact every wedding anniversary she and her husband shared since their daughter's premature death brought such warm gestures. She met the topaz eyes of the Cadillac Fleetwood she called her mate. "You always find the prettiest roses, Charles. Thank you."

With a light toss of his hood, the bloom sailed lightly onto the table beside her. He offered her his debonair smile in return. "Given how well you've put up with my foolishness over the years, it's the least I can do to show my thanks, sugar. I always tell that shop owner I'm not leaving the place until he sells me the best."

Although she usually wasn't the more forward-behaving one, Mary Ellen let that slide at times, this being one of them. Pulling forth she let a gesture speak her reply and soundly kissed the older Cadillac in a way he hadn't expected yet thoroughly enjoyed and returned ardently.

"Happy anniversary to the man who made me Mrs. Eldorado." she softly said when the kiss was broken. He spanned the small gap by leaning over and placing his large black fender against her pale-yellow one.

"It's my pleasure to share the name with you, pretty lady." he replied, the affection in his voice as obvious as in his gesture. She leaned into him and briefly closed her eyes, taking silent pleasure in the fact the trademark cologne he wore was for only one woman: her.

"I can't believe we've been together for thirty years…" she observed.

"I'm indebted to you for that, Mary Ellen." he answered in an honest and humble tone. She opened her eyes once more. "If you hadn't been the one to win me over for something a whole lot more fulfilling than affairs, I'd never claim a long marriage, if I'd be lucky enough to be married at all. I'd have myself to blame for it, of course. Losing our girl made me realize how close I was to losing you also. I've told you all this a hundred times I know, but it's truth and I mean it all. I'd be a worse individual without you, honey. I hope you'll want to stay my wife for another thirty years because it makes me pretty damned glad to be your husband."

She nuzzled the big car with soft affection. "I've grown to love you more in the past fifteen years than I ever have, and it goes to mention because of that I'm also pretty glad to be your wife. We may always be different and more opposite than others would think, but I couldn't see myself with anyone else, Charles."

"You don't know how happy that makes me to hear, Mary Ellen." he told her, flashing her his signature smile.

"If I had chosen anyone else beside you in our earliest days, I wouldn't have had Cornelia. I have to always be grateful for you if for nothing but that, Charley." she said, returning the smile.

"She was the most wonderful daughter I could have hoped for." the older Cadillac said with a sigh. "I wish every day I had been different to her."

"She loved you no matter what. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have wanted to come here and see us nor invited us to her town. Cornelia never had hard feelings against much of anyone." Mary Ellen said, leaning into her husband's fender. Charles gave her a gentle nuzzle that contradicted his size and strength.

"If every child could have had been like her, I would have liked to have had another if I didn't go the way of the damned dysfunctional after that." he confessed. Mary Ellen flinched at his words. That was the greatest secret between them, the biggest enigma she had never told her husband. Charles was a different man now than he had been years before, so much that she finally decided he deserved to know the truth. She pushed off of him and met his handsome brown eyes.

"You didn't go 'dysfunctional,' Charles." she softly said.

"Well, I sure must have, sugar, because after Cornelia was here I certainly didn't have a scrap of luck getting you pregnant. Not that I sure didn't want to, but it didn't work. I knew what I was doing too and it was all correct." he said, but with a smile of acceptance. "Of course, it's a possibility you _did_ have a kid and dropped him off at someone's doorstep in the middle of the night." he added in jest. His wife shook her pale-yellow hood in confliction.

"No, Charles, no. Nothing ever went wrong with you. After Cornelia was born life was so hard for me. I barely had any idea of how to take care of a child. I was still trying to figure out how to be a wife. Cornelia I loved dearly but she was a lot to take care of for one individual. I felt at that time that you didn't really care. I've told you that before, I know, so that's nothing new to you. As our daughter grew older though I was saddened at how she'd feel about having a father who liked having extramarital affairs and I felt bad for her. I couldn't stand the idea of another child being faced with that difficult truth. I… I went to the doctor one day and he gave me something so I couldn't have other children if I didn't want to. I think it permanently affected me. That's why she was our one and only."

She waited for the information to register in the gleam of his topaz eyes from beyond his sparkling hood ornament. The old Charles she knew would have likely spat out something rude or simply left the room. She didn't know what to expect for this revealed secret but her questionings didn't have to be waited long. The big Fleetwood just blinked and said under his breath, "So that's what happened."

She didn't counter his statement, only sitting quiet still, waiting. She couldn't yet perceive whether or not his ire was raised. Had she done wrong to be honest? The next thing she knew he had turned and given her a kiss on the side of her fender; the last thing she had ever expected to come from her truths. "Seeing as to how I was then, I can't rightly argue with your choice, sugar. I wouldn't have wanted to grow up with a father like myself either."

"You aren't mad?" she asked. He shook his long hood shallowly.

"I'm regretful but I'm not mad, Mary Ellen. Regretful because if I'd cleaned up my act way back then maybe we would have had the chance for Cornelia to have a brother or sister. But, I did what I did best with everything back then: screwed up." he said.

Mary Ellen softly nuzzled him when she realized he wasn't cross with her. "I'm regretful of that too, Charles. I would have liked for things to be different then just as much. Being a mother may have confused me but if we could have worked together at parenting, things would have worked out fine. Had that happened, I would have liked to have had another child, too. Things didn't work out that way though. Sadly it's been too late for awhile now though to change it. We only have each other for immediate company, and then our lovely granddaughter also."

Charles's smile was warm at the recollection. "Grace is just like her mother. I don't know about you but when we first met the girl I felt as if you and I didn't lose Cornelia entirely after all. Again, I probably didn't show it the best in the world, but I love that young lady with my whole heart."

"Why don't you show it, darling?" she asked. "You have it in you more than you might think to be a sweet, old car. If I were you, I'd show it now so I wouldn't be more regretful later."

"You remember what I said earlier about you making me a better individual? This is exactly what I mean, Mary Ellen." he told her.

. . . .

The romance the two Cadillacs shared now was of a different sort than what Charles so often participated in when he wore well his status as the infamous paramour. The evening had ended intimately as either could have silently predicted but it wasn't simply a one-track event. It was true love shared and unabashedly shown. When the Fleetwood kissed his wife, it wasn't a lustful sort of kiss the long-ago Margot and other girls of her ilk had been given. His every gesture to Mary Ellen was certainly amorous but was a tender sort of affection, more like the kind Hudson had shown Cornelia since their very start. If either had been asked they would have said it was truly fulfilling to them also. Charles knew he'd likely have never been married without the younger Cadillac and was grateful for her staying with him in ways every kiss he gave her said. Although he had shed his ways of the paramour, he was still a romantic and knew precisely how to win over a girl, leaving Mary Ellen to fall under the spell every time. Knowing she was the only one to ever fall under it, she did so gladly.

"You're still quite the man if I do say so, Charles." she said with a soft smile after he had finished mating with her. He flashed her his best smile.

"Well, at least this old guy knows he's not dysfunctional anymore. That helps a whole lot." he answered. She couldn't help but lightly laugh at that.

"Don't flatter yourself, Charley." she warned.

"I wasn't. You think I'd do that?" he asked, rolling his eyes casually as if that were ridiculous.

"I never know with you." she humorously concluded. He pulled up alongside her till they drew at near even lengths and leaned slightly her way to nuzzle her. She pressed against his side with appreciative affection.

"In case any of my actions this evening didn't prove it, it goes worth mentioning again. I love you with all my heart, Mary Ellen. If my actions only semi-proved that, then shame on me and I'll repeat them."

The pale-yellow Cadillac snuggled lovingly, trustingly, into the flank of the metal-flake gold one. "They proved it, you proved it." she reassured.

"I'm thinking I might take interest in repeating them anyway…" he mused aloud as if he hadn't heard her.

"Charles, you're crazy." she laughed.

"Properly showing love for a woman is not crazy. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy all that because I know you did, sugar."

She met his eyes. "Alright. Guilty as charged. I did. That also means the time has come for me to say something. If my willingness and acceptance and general adoration didn't prove it, it's worth mentioning I love you with all my heart too, Charles. You're a very sweet and wonderful old car beneath your crass façade."

He smiled at her. "If I'm that than your greatness can't even be described, Mrs. Eldorado."

She turned 'round to give him another kiss, one of many shared that evening. When she met his gaze she gave him her best smile in return. "Here's to another thirty years, Mr. Eldorado."

He rewarded his wife with a wink. "You bet on it. Happy anniversary, sugar."


	62. Chapter 62

62~

Helen Sparks felt as if she could have stayed on in the wonderful burg of Radiator Springs forever, but responsibilities still loomed in Wyoming. She had to go back, she had to move on, and she had entertained the thought often of moving elsewhere in the state, to a place that truly had no essence of Victor. She had gained the courage now where she felt she could do so.

More than all else though, she dreaded parting the ways with Hudson. In the months she had lodged at the heart of the Ornament Valley, she had experienced so much by keeping company with the still mysterious blue coupe. She was sure she would always love him in the future years, but he had also taught her something else, something that she could actually voice without fear of seeming impolite.

"I'm grateful for the time I've spent here, more than I can truly express, I think." the violet-eyed DeSoto began during the private talk she had asked of Hudson on what was known to be her last week in town. Together they faced the majestic view of the Ornament Valley from the pullout Grace had brought Helen to months before for her important discussion. "I came here still feeling upset by my divorce but I'll leave stronger and more eager to leave the past where it should be. It's in the long ago and never to return and re-questioning it over and over won't help me. I'm grateful towards everyone I've come to know here, but I am indebted mostly to you, Hudson."

"I'm still unsure of how helpful I've been, Helen. I think I told you more about my earlier days than much else." he answered.

"That _is_ what helped though. I learned from you the beauty of something rare and worth treasuring, even though attaining it isn't simple or derived from banal choices. Most of us never have the chance to hear of the bond and union you and your Cornelia had, so I consider myself lucky to have been a listening 'spectator.' I just will never be able to properly tell you how sorry I am things ended so tragically. You never should have lost the love of your life. It wasn't fair."

"If I've learned anything in my twenty-four years it is that nothing is fair." he said with wry honesty.

Helen looked out onto the beautiful landscape before them, relishing in the warm desert glow and hoping to always remember it. "I'll miss it here, but Wyoming is my home." she softly murmured. A silent pause fell where only the lightly blowing wind lent voice.

"You're always welcome back here." Hudson eventually said in his gentle tone that paired well with his demeanor. Helen looked to him where his eyes caught hers.

"Thank you, Hudson." She smiled with warmth. "And thank you again for how you've become my dearest friend."

He nodded his hood shallowly. "Thank you for being one to me as well. I never knew how much I needed it."

"I hope," the DeSoto replied, "that you'll always be able to remember the wonderful and happiest times you shared with your wife. You may fear forgetting, but certain things like that are too special to vanish. Remember the best years even though what happened is the unchanging, too real end. Don't be afraid to smile or to laugh, even if it hurts."

He tried offering her that, the brighter smile of his brighter years even though a shadow still dimmed the glimmer. "And don't you be afraid of a second chance. If it comes, take it. I'd be happy for you to have that."

"If it comes, I'll tell you." she promised.

"If it comes, don't live life with regrets. Look for what you hope for. From what I've come to know of you, I'm sure you'd be a fine mother." he assured her. She softly laughed.

"I'm not sure I can think that far yet." she told, although what he had said affected her in ways she couldn't explain. She _could_ have that chance if she wanted it and here someone who had lost so many of his chances had been the one selfless to give her the hope she hadn't realized was sought.

"Well, no matter, I wish you all of my best, Helen." he told her.

"Thank you," she acknowledged, but had to look away as she felt the unmistakable sting of tears in her eyes. His wish for her happiness was what she could only describe as heart-wrenching, given how much of the same he'd lost. He was the most selfless and kind-hearted companion Helen had known in a long time, if ever. She knew as fact some part of her would always love him for it. She blinked to stave the tears but one managed to go against her wish, slowly spilling down her antique-white hood.

"Are you alright?" he gently asked upon noticing this. No man, unless he was completely ignorant of anything beyond the end of his hood ornament, could see a female cry and not be concerned.

"I'm sorry… I don't know." she hastily interjected. He met her violet eyes with his blue when she finally gave him her full attention.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked. She felt guilty of unloading her thoughts but it seemed the gates had been opened for a last time.

"It's just… you've taught me what real, actual love is and…" She knew he'd either crossly read something into her next confession or not, yet said it anyway. "And… I'll miss you with my whole heart for it."

The wariness he had at this he voted to overlay with genuine sympathy. "You're saying what I think you are, aren't you?"

She felt ashamed that her feelings had been so plain and felt certain whatever camaraderie had been formed suddenly would go tumbling down. She couldn't meet his azure eyes. "If I could have a second chance, I know I could easily love someone like you." she admitted. Her voice was barely above a hushed whisper.

He lightly nodded his hood. "So what I thought was true."

"You're upset, I'm sure." she murmured. He rested his gaze onto her until she ruefully looked back his way.

"No, I'm not upset, Helen. The reason why is because you've been respectful of my own choice since you knew. You've not pursued something which you know will never work, for either of us. You have every chance in your future though to find what you hope for."

"I don't know if I will," she confessed.

"You will," he said to that, his tone so sure she was compelled to hold his gaze. "Your ex-husband may not have appreciated what he had but someone will. Not everyone is like Victor, Helen. You'll find someone else who will love and cherish you in the ways you want and also deserve. You're a bright lady. In some of those ways…" He let the sentence hang, uncertain if what he'd say next would be suitable. Finally he said it anyway. She had been courageous enough with her honesty and he could be the same with his. "In some of those ways," he began anew, "you remind me a bit of my Cornelia."

Her vision wavered with tears she had no chance of hiding. He had paid her the ultimate compliment by likening her to his cherished, lost wife. It was something she never guessed she'd have heard. "Thank you. That's a honor." she softly said, willing her voice to not crack.

He looked to her in a gentle fashion she imagined Cornelia to fall for again and again. What a lucky woman she had been to have had such an equally loving and respectful union. "With the ways you have, you'll have plenty of second chances, Helen." he reassured her. "You just have to know though… they can't be with me."

She nodded with a gesture both knew was truthful understanding. "I know. I knew that from the very beginning. I came back here, not sure of the full purpose or what I'd find but I realize now there _was_ a reason I returned; to learn what the standard for genuine love should be, what marriage should always be about, and lastly…" she said. "I will learn to let go – of many things in my life. I'll never forget any of that and never knew how much I needed it also. You're someone truly special, Hudson."

For the last time she leaned in to kiss the scratched fender of the indigo coupe. It was a kiss that lasted a couple seconds longer than any preceding it. It alone showed the care she'd never lose for him. He offered her his commonplace warm smile in return. "Thank you, Helen." he told her. For the reasons that he showed gratitude, there were many. She did not have to ask. Silently, she understood.

. . . .

"It's hard to believe she's gone… it almost seemed like she was becoming a permanent resident here." Grace observed the evening of the DeSoto's departure. She had stayed to visit her father after work ended because she felt in some way or another, her presence was wanted. In the silent room the older car nodded.

"She was here a long time; longer than I thought she'd be." he observed.

"I never thought I'd see her again after that last time, but I was glad of her return. She's truly a kind lady. I hope the best for her back home." the Cadillac mused.

"I do also, Grace. She deserves better than what her ex-husband showed her. She'll have a better opportunity. Of that I don't have any doubts."

Grace met her father's shadowed blue eyes with her paler copy. "She was good for you, Daddy. You needed someone like her in your life, if even for this short time. I talked to her one day months ago and it was plain she thought so much of you. You're the best thing that happened to her since she and that Victor split." She leaned over to give him an affectionate nuzzle. "She came to love you."

He shallowly nodded. "That's the last thing I ever expected anyone to say to me again after losing your mother."

"Did you… like her?" his daughter asked delicately. "Tell me the truth, Daddy."

"I liked her as a friend, Grace."

"Do you think though… that if… things were different…?" she hesitated, never wanting to seem too forward or disrespectful of her father's choices and beliefs.

The old blue car sighed, sinking lower on his shocks as he did so. "Had things been different, had I been like many who don't mind taking a second chance after something happens, I think it's possible I could have come to love her. With the wrongs she's suffered despite being the good-hearted lady she is, that itself would have made it easy to love her. Had my choices been different, I think I could have happily shown her what it's like to be treated fairly. Had my choices been different, I think I could have possibly chosen her for my second mate had things worked that way. But my choices _aren't_ different, Grace. I'd never do any of that. I can only wish her better days in her future."

Grace closed her eyes and buried her fender into his side. Words couldn't entirely explain what she felt but if she had to describe it, she would vote for sadness yet relief. Relief because she couldn't ever imagine any other female in her mother's place – regardless of the factor she'd never have to consider her such. Sadness because she knew her beloved father had his lonely moments but he would never go against the promise he had made to his wife nor the lasting measure of timeless love he held for her only. The faith kept a lot of effort when living solitary went so against his friendly ways. Grace did not doubt at all that if things had been different, he could have loved the violet-eyed DeSoto and secured himself another companion.

Hudson seemed to know exactly how his girl felt without her saying a word. He gently nuzzled her. "You and your mother are the two most important individuals in my life, and although she's gone I will never have the heart to place her memory second. Helen will find what it is she needs in life, someone who will give her all she desires. No matter my potential wants, I could never be that someone. I have too many past memories to haunt me."

The Cadillac knew that was all true; knew her father would never be whole again. All the same though, she thought of the union her parents had shared in their too-short marriage. She thought of Helen and her ex, Victor. She thought of the fact she herself hadn't engaged in more than a dozen dates since crossing into adulthood so many years before. She hadn't found what she sought, hadn't found anything that could have smacked of the potential which her parents had claimed. Again she considered the DeSoto. Grace hoped she would have her second chance, but like a phantom in her mind the words came again.

 _Does a love like that even still exist?_


	63. Chapter 63

63~  
 **1984**

The calendar pages of time tore away, moving backwards further and further still as the winds of remembrances snagged at their edges. As each additional mile passed beneath Hudson's white-wall tires, closer he came again to the halcyon years of the 1950s. He had not forgotten his daughter's interest in seeing Thomasville – the town and the track where his career as a once-famous racecar had started and ended, filled in between by the lucky meeting with a young girl known then as Cornelia Eldorado; a girl who would always stay young.

He figured there was no time better than the present. His job in Radiator Springs saw less business than ever, to the point now where there was little need for it to be open daily. The last of the specialty storefronts in town had shuttered, leaving only the V8 Café, the Cozy Cone, Luigi's tire shop, Ramone's painting and detailing house, and the souvenir store Lizzie rallied forth to run. Lastly, of course, was the Mechanical Clinic. There was a time to stay and a time to part ways for awhile, and it seemed the latter had finally come for Hudson's sake also.

The aspen groves gave way to blue spruce and the blue spruce to ponderosa pine as the elevation climbed during their journey. The desert of Radiator Springs was far away, borders apart. Grey clouds heavy with rain loomed on the horizon, announcing their presence with the far-off rumble of thunder every so often. On the roadside, hardy wildflowers still snaked their way between the gravel to bloom. Upon the asphalt small puddles of rainwater sat from a past shower, either from that morning or from prior days. It was a beautiful clime and the drive was befittingly taken in silence by the pair; silence punctuated only by the steady sound of their engines.

Grace had waited for this day to possibly come and now that she had embarked upon the journey she felt apprehensive yet excited. She was to see the place where her father's other life began yet also where it had ended. Additionally though she was to see the place where he and her mother had met; the beginning place of their marriage tie that not too terribly long afterward resulted in her. The realization for Grace would be striking. The memories it would bring again to the day's light for Hudson would be bittersweet.

She saw the worn billboard first. Off to the left it sat, shrouded on one side by overgrown trees. Reactively she slowed and pulled to the side where her father, silently, joined here. They both looked to it in quiet consideration. It was old… so old. The paint was chipping off of the boards it had been streaked across to show the bare wood underneath, but all of it could still be read. Grace did just that again and yet again.

 _THOMASVILLE SPEEDWAY  
HOME OF "51" FABULOUS HUDSON HORNET_

To the left of the long-ago used racing number was a painted portrait of a car that was not unknown to her. Dozens of times she had seen that profile in her childhood magazines. Now she could again see it in real life and turned to her father beside her, but unlike the billboard he lacked the triumphant smile and the paintwork heralding to the world who he was, who he had been. His blue eyes, darkened by the storm cloud's approaching shadows, held a plethora of emotions within them.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. He finally relented with a sigh and shook his hood.

"No, darling. Sometimes though we have to face the hardest parts of our pasts to move a little easier into the future."

. . . .

It was not what either had expected, the track. Eerie silence filled it. The fence bordering it had fallen down and broken in the passage of years. Weeds staked claims around the edges of the lot. The stands had begun rotting and many canted sideways in broken angles.

It was abandoned. Forgotten.

It looked completely unlike the bright and colorful place it had been in 1951 when Hudson had astonished the racing world by winning the desirable Piston Cup trophy in his rookie year. It was unlike the place where he had subsequently beaten the other novice cars. It was unlike the place where a beautiful jade-green Cadillac had persuaded track officials to let her say a hello to her favorite racer that bloomed into so much more.

It was different yet still so much the same.

They drove through where the broken gates had fallen to the side, neither interrupting the silence that seemed important to not break. After a few paces though, the old blue coupe found he had to stop. Today, he could go no further. Respectful of this, Grace pulled beside him and leaned into his side. Outward she looked to the track that obviously hadn't seen a car on it in dozens of years. It was all so different than she ever could have imagined. Never had she considered the very real option of the track being abandoned. For some reason she always assumed it'd be up and running. How long after her father's devastating crash had it closed?

Thunder rumbled again, though this time it was much louder. She looked up and saw a gloomy cloud directly above the vicinity. Loaded it was with the rain that'd be inevitable to fall. The first drop she noticed when it made its tiny splash onto her hood. One innocent drop multiplied to dozens. Quickly the sky broke open. Only then did Hudson finally come back to the present. Grace didn't mind the rain and he didn't either, but his mind had been turned from life's events to think of it somewhat differently. His Cornelia had loved the rain, yet a rainfall is what contributed partly to her violent end.

The rain had turned into a blinding downpour by the time they entered town and because of it being so very hard to see safely, Hudson directed his daughter to the first open business. Of all things, it happened to be a bar, although it was obvious the many who had settled there did so for shelter alone and not solely for a drink. They would all wait it out till the barrage of water stopped. Hudson thought his day couldn't get any more overwhelming with the events in it, but then he saw what he thought was a familiar individual in the crowd of every vehicle possible. He considered it foolish he believed this was someone he'd once known. The odds weren't in favor of that after 30-odd years. At one table though he swore he saw that so-curious-as-to-be-nearly-nosy past member of his crew, Jimmy.

The need to know compelled Hudson to part the crowd and move forward. The bar was so noisy with various voices joining in conversation that he went practically unnoticed aside from when accidentally bumping into a female patron who fixed him with a hot glare that warranted an instant apology.

He looked at the forklift. His paint was a different shade than it had been in the 1950s but everything else seemed the same from the mannerism and other behavior. He chatted with a sedan that had pulled up in a voice Hudson was sure he recognized despite sounding older. This had to be Jimmy, but should he really chance asking? Hudson knew he wanted no attention if this was Jimmy and he remembered the car he had once worked for. Not that any of the patrons and loiterers in the bar would remember a #51 racecar, but there was the possibility. Just when he was considering this the sedan left and the forklift looked up, directly meeting Hudson's gaze which succeeded in startling the bigger of the two who hadn't anticipated this. No recognition passed in the forklift's eyes though, which was a relief. Again, Hudson had to remember that the paintwork announcing his career was long gone; covered up by a dark-blue finish that distinguished him from no one.

"Hey, you new in town?" the forklift asked. Even less did Hudson expect to be addressed.

"Somewhat?" he offered, vague. The forklift grabbed the drink a curvaceous waitress put before him.

"You need help getting around town? I've been here my whole life and know everything; what's closed and what's still open. Where you from?" he asked.

Hudson hesitated at the idea of being included in a conversation he wasn't potentially interested in at the moment with so many others in the bar yet always had a modicum of politeness to some degree. He could see his daughter engaged with another lady in talk and knew that if he didn't humor the forklift who may or may not be known, all he'd be doing would be sitting in the corner, waiting for the last of the rainfall to dry on his paint. "I came from the desert." he allowed.

"Originally?" he asked. Hudson shook his hood no, but was more certain now this was Jimmy with the pressing questions.

"No. Originally I'm from… elsewhere."

"Ah, okay. A lot of us are from elsewhere originally." he answered and took a sip of his drink. Elsewhere in the bar a shout was heard that the rain had stopped and an incredible amount of the gathered autos departed to return to where they had been headed before the deluge caught them. After the room had cleared Hudson noticed less than a half-dozen cars remained, counting his daughter who had been occupied in talk now with someone else. His observations were halted by the next thing the forklift said which the blue coupe found so shocking, it was as if a chill had descended into the room.

"I might be wrong, but you sound a little like someone I knew a long, long time ago. I don't think I got your name yet."

This was the moment that would suddenly decide the course for everything the rest of that day. His name was recognizable in its lack of creativity, he knew, and if any name could be remembered after 30-something years, it'd be his. He met the forklift's grayish eyes.

"My name's Hudson."

His companion nodded. "Nice to meet ya. I'm Jimmy." So it was true. The eyes of the older car went wide. It was true, it was true. Suddenly the forklift seemed to find a memory arisen in his mind too. "Wait…" he began in an unsure tone. "You said your name was Hudson? Hudson _Hornet_ , can I ask?"

There was no room to lie. He nodded his hood. Jimmy offered him the pale smile of those who shared some tragic event which forever bound them along with brighter times. "I never thought I'd see you again. Welcome home, boss."

. . . .

At the table in a bar where two had been brought together because of a spring storm, the memories of a past life from what seemed like a century ago were shared. From the edges of the room Grace silently watched and listened to the exchange, realizing this was something important she wasn't to interrupt, not yet.

"Things have changed a lot, boss." Jimmy related to the old, retired racecar he had once worked for. "Of course, I don't need to tell you that."

"Please," the older car began, "call me my name. I'm not your boss anymore. I haven't been in thirty years."

The little forklift nodded. "Seems odd to call you by name, but I know what you mean. It's been so long since I've seen ya." he said in disbelief at whom he still saw before him. The Hornet's blue eyes were still as vibrant as they'd been in his earliest years; a feature so many of his female fans had been captured by. This made Jimmy remember the meeting his boss had had with a beautiful girl in '53, wasn't it? She was a fancy make. Cadillac? Perhaps. The forklift leaned over to confirm his remembrance, seeing a softly shining gold wedding band encircling the car's left chrome rim.

"What's her name again?" Jimmy asked, catching Hudson off guard.

"Who?" he asked.

"Your wife," Jimmy clarified. He didn't appear to notice the facet of sadness in those cerulean eyes that _had_ changed after so many years.

"Cornelia," he answered. "Her name is Cornelia."

"What's the news with both of you? How many kids have you got?" he asked in a tone almost too cheerful. Hudson briefly closed his eyes, knowing so soon so much would have to be brought to light once more from the worst day of his life that'd never die. Upon facing the expectant forklift again he spoke.

"One," he quietly told. "We had one."

"One? Just one? Well, dip me in axle grease and call me slick, I would've guessed you both had something like five." Jimmy considered. Suddenly though he seemed to notice the shadowed gleam in the features of the ex-racecar. Something didn't seem right. Not knowing how to approach this though, he changed the subject.

"Well, speaking of the good-looking girl you married, is she here?"

Hudson shook his hood. "No," he murmured.

"No…?" Jimmy asked, feeling more confused and slightly apprehensive by the moment. His former boss held his gaze and said what the forklift never dreamed he'd hear.

"My sweet wife was killed back in 1959."


	64. Chapter 64

64~

Jimmy found a feeling that could be only called dread or understandably plain sadness as he heard the life story unfold of the ex-racecar he had worked for in the long ago. Things had been so wonderfully golden for the total of five years after his marriage to a Cornelia Eldorado until they went entirely wrong… horribly wrong. The little forklift sat in silence, knowing not what could be said proper for what he heard.

"I'll never forget seeing her brought into my office that day. Her beautiful paint was scraped off in so many places. Her rear axle was broken in some cruel parallel to the way mine were after my crash. Something serious was broken within her. I knew realistically she couldn't be saved but denial made me hope for the impossible. I couldn't cope with the idea of losing my daughter's mother and my closest companion. I couldn't cope with it then and all of these years later, I still can't. Sometimes I still wake up in the dead of night and think; _it's been over twenty years since I last saw her._ "

Jimmy stared compulsively at the neon sign beyond the old racecar. Meeting his eyes and the stark sorrow in them shook him to his core but he had to do it either way, finding their azure blueness cast downward to his hood anyway.

"I never would've dreamed that could've happened to you, boss." Jimmy said, remembering at the last minute the slip up in his speech. "The circuit was brutal to you after '54 and what happened. After you left it and left town, I had no idea where you went and just guessed I'd never see ya again. I didn't know what you were doing but I just hoped you had something better to enjoy, I guess."

"I did. For five years, I did. And, I still have something dearer to me than I can say." Hudson told and looked over to his daughter who had patiently stood by in the shadows the entire time. She understood the silent signal in his eyes and slowly rolled up to the table. Jimmy looked up to see one of the most beautiful ladies he'd ever seen approaching. She was painted a striking seafoam-green color that complimented her style. At the nose of her hood was the recognizable "V" insignia for a Cadillac. Quietly she looped over and came up against the side of the indigo coupe. Gently, she leaned into his side with a gesture Jimmy saw was of pure love. Hudson met her caring pair of soft blue eyes with his own of a darker hue.

"This is my daughter Grace. She's the most precious individual in my life. Grace, this is Jimmy. He was a member of my crew when… when I used to be a racecar." he told the younger car. She turned a gentle smile onto the little forklift.

"I'm glad to meet you." she softly greeted. He returned the smile.

"I'm glad to meet you as well, Miss…?" he hesitated.

"Hornet. I've never married. Call me my name though, please." she filled in. "I'm not a formal type."

He nodded. "Of course. I never thought I'd see my old boss again and I really never thought I'd meet his child. I'm very sorry about your mother, Grace."

"Thank you. We'll never stop missing her."

"You've never been married, you say?" he asked her. She shook her hood.

"No, I've not found what I've been looking for. Really at this point all that matters to me is staying happy and enjoying life the best I can and watching over my father so he can have some of the same."

Hudson gave his daughter a subtle nuzzle that still spoke volumes of the amount of care he held for whom Jimmy understood deeper was his only child, the future chance of others torn away at his wife's violently sent death. Before him the forklift saw a father and a husband who suffered defeats which had driven themselves all the way to his core. Aside from the astonishing wealth of scratches beneath his plain blue paint, showing sharply under the bar's sallow light, Jimmy did not see anywhere the famous racecar who owned the glory of the three most coveted trophies in the circuit. Nowhere did Jimmy see the triumphant Fabulous Hudson Hornet. But he had been there, once.

. . . .

The next day the sun shone bright, any threat of clouds to cover it lay far in the distance over the blue, pine-studded hills. Despite being an adult Hudson found courage the most elusive thing to hold onto as he returned to the abandoned Thomasville track to tell his daughter of all that had happened there and to, for his own sake, remember. It wouldn't be simple, how he did know that, but it all had to be done.

The silence within the track was akin to a church, a sanctuary. If it was anything like that though, it was only a sanctuary for memories that resided there like ghosts who haunted a place they never wished to leave. Once the pair quietly passed through the gates, it was as if all of those years hadn't even gone by. Beyond the chaotic ruin and decay Hudson could overlay it in his mind with the vibrancy of survival and of his passed youth. In his mind he could erase the clustered, overgrown weeds who were the only spectators of the cracked dirt track. If his life had forked down a different path, this meeting with the past likely would have sparked within him the remembered glory of the track and he could have even been tempted to take a lap. Before Grace had been born he had viewed the small-stakes race around Willy's Butte and felt the desire to join. For his wife only, he had raced, for the last time. Now though the fire for that sort of thing had left. He had been a town driver for too many years now, his top speed in Radiator Spring's city limits being only 25 miles-per-hour. Often he went only twenty. Cornelia had told him that although he hadn't been born a racecar, he was truly meant to be one. Not anymore.

"It was there I first saw your mother," he said to Grace, motioning with his hood to a scrappy looking piece of land on the outskirts of the track where racers' trailers were parked. Aside from the weeds, it looked no different. He could clearly remember that meeting.

 _She had slowly driven over to where the he sat, dust-coated after that year's race. When she faced him, it was then he realized love at first sight could be possible. She was so beautiful, and he knew somehow she was something special._  
 _"Hi. My name is Cornelia Eldorado… I just wanted to say 'congratulations' on your winning of the race, Mr. Hornet." she finally said._  
 _Cornelia Eldorado, the girl who he later would claim as his wife._

Grace stopped a few feet behind her father; realizing and accepting a measure of certain solitude befit him best. For her, she didn't know how to accept the situation. It felt sad and eerie to her all at once for she was now seeing something she had never known yet was the prelude to her very existence. She tried with all of her might to think of her mother and father young, much younger than she was now, meeting after a race where the spark lit up for their later, future marriage.

"It was also here that I asked your mother to marry me, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst." the old car remembered to tell his daughter. Grace took this difficult pronouncement as the silent invitation to come forward. She pulled parallel beside him and looked out across the silent track where only the wind lent voice to where once the most powerful engines roared.

"And you got the best that you could ask for, Daddy." she softly replied as she'd done so many times before.

"The very best," he agreed in a voice of diminished strength. Courage was a folly to keep. To see life come full circle for him was the most unexplainable thing he could ever have imagined. With a plainly heavy-hearted sigh, he gave in to all he'd seen and what was to come in remembering and sank the full weight of his frame onto its shocks. Down to the earth his lowest chrome trim met. The gravel would scratch its mirror-like finish, but what did he care? His image, his racing days were the last thing he cared about. All he could think of was her.

 _"Cornelia," he had said to her that evening, "I have a question to ask."_  
 _She had playfully inquired whether or not he thought she had an answer. He had told her he knew she'd have one of some sort. "Even if it's not what I'm hoping for though, I promise to honor your choice, even though there's a pretty high chance you'll break my heart."_  
 _She had laughed at that, demanding to know whatever he was talking about. Down he had sank on his front axle in the stance of a proper courting fellow and asked her the question that'd decide everything._  
 _"Cornelia Eldorado, I'd like to ask you if you will marry me."_  
 _When she'd given him the answer that made him the gladdest racecar in the entire country, he had taken that opportunity to kiss his intended with the most loving gesture to prove his gratitude._

All of those memories came rushing back to him in crystal-clarity as if the floodgates of the past had been opened. Courage was a folly. Bravery now was a lie. He had hidden it from his beloved daughter so often in the past but there was hope for that now. Strength also was a deception.

In an abandoned racetrack where a retired-before-his-time racecar had once ruled he gave into the bittersweet past and wept openly. There was no shame in it. Those who said so were afraid to feel. Hudson had tried for twenty-six years to keep a front to those he knew, from the townsfolk to his sole child. To onlookers, perhaps it looked as if he'd been able to forge ahead with bravery and leave that past where it remained. He did the best he could but moving forward fully was a ruse.

Grace closed her eyes and pressed against the side of the old, blue coupe. For her the presence of her mother was so close and yet so far. She could hope with all her heart she'd reopen her eyes and see her mother before her but knew it'd never be. Tears stung at her own eyes and she did naught to halt their course.

Hudson saw within his mind the course of events that had conspired after that one hopeful question in long-ago 1953. He remembered their marriage day and their ensuing honeymoon which began in a roadside motel where he had treated her in the way he had longed to since both had pledged till death do we part. It was there and then he claimed Cornelia, a beautiful jade-green Cadillac, not only as his wife but also his mate. Given the earliest year of their marriage and the great ardor the two held for one another it was a touch stunning Grace hadn't come about sooner. He regretted too many times she hadn't. Had she, she would have claimed just a little longer time to share with her mother.

He could regret, but it'd solve nothing. Wishing wouldn't be stopped though. If the desperation in a wish could make a situation true, he knew at that moment if it were possible Cornelia would return to life in her beautiful perfection that even her devastating crash couldn't hide. If this could be true, how he'd lean in to give her the sort of kiss that said everything words couldn't. Playfully she'd likely attempt to intercept him and with her cherished brand of humor tell him there was no need to be hasty; there was time aplenty.

If only a wish could become true. For Hudson, time was not aplenty in that desired hope. No, no… in 1959 it had run out.


	65. Chapter 65

65~

"They say you can't ever go home again," Hudson related to his staggered daughter. "I never could have guessed how much that really meant."

Before a plain looking station two cars sat, one who knew a before and the other who now never would. The station wasn't what they were interested in, though. Hudson had hoped that maybe his memory had partly failed him, but knew that was only denial. The street was right, the address was right. Everything was correct. The residence he and Cornelia had shared in the first year of marriage was gone, razed at some point to make way for the scarcely populated Hi-Quality gasoline station they now looked at.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Grace pressed her father. He lightly nodded.

"Yes, honey. This is it… this _was_ it."

After seeing that the racetrack was abandoned, the one thing the Cadillac had held out hope for was seeing her parent's home. It was the last thing she could have expected to be gone in a town that looked like it was on the border of barely surviving to her. She looked to the station and impulsively hated it in a way she felt was childish but knew no other way to feel. Why had that lot been chosen to build it? There was nowhere else more suitable in the whole town?

Things hadn't been at all what she had anticipated so far.

She was broken from her heated glare to Hi-Quality by a gentle nudge from her father. "Being angry won't help either of us, Grace. Come with me; there's one place that I know still exists that is important."

She complied by turning over her engine. "How do you know whatever this is still is around?" she asked. Hudson cranked over his own engine.

"Somehow or another, it was one thing I remembered to ask Jimmy. He told me it was still here, and that it wasn't in bad shape either. It isn't everything I could have hoped for, but it's better than this."

Hudson may not have been in Thomasville for decades but memory alone served well even when crossing a street that's name was changed since the early 1950s when he first saw it. Within twenty minutes they were on the edges of town and at the plainly named Thomasville Park. It was empty save two ladies with their children. With the Cadillac shadowing him, the indigo coupe slowly drove in. The pair didn't stop until nearing the west-most corner, away from where those who patronized the place usually gathered. The trees had grown bigger yet still didn't block the view there was. He remembered this and could appreciate it as if it all had happened yesterday.

"Do you know why I brought you here, Grace?" he asked her. The Cadillac had inkling but no certainty and told him so. He looked back to her with his commonplace gentle smile. "In 1953, what seems even longer ago now, I brought your mother here on what I guess you could call one of our first official dates."

"To this very spot?" she asked.

"To this very spot." he assured. "It's beautiful here in the evening when the sun sets. All the years I lived here before I met your mother, I never once came to notice it though. I hope I never seemed like the other cars I competed against, but I have to be honest enough to tell you that I still was different. Racing wasn't my whole life, but it was a very large portion of it. Large enough where I never thought to see this. Your mother taught me to see the beauty in the world. Tonight I'll bring you back here so you can see what we saw back before we were married."

"I'd like that very much," she told him with a soft smile. Within her mind she tried to picture her parents in that long-ago; her father in the untroubled days before his season- and career-ending crash. Her mother younger than herself now, a girl who had the passion to love a sport deemed inappropriate for a girl. A girl who had the highest and realistically unattainable hope of meeting the champion who had won a prominent place on her favorites. In this town Grace felt the presence of her mother's youth in ways she hadn't anticipated and could grip further all she had read in her childhood magazines yet never had the chance to hear from her mom firsthand. How absolutely stunned Cornelia must have been to have so many of her hopes and more come true. How eerily overwhelming it was for Grace to be in the town – to _sit_ in the very place – another young Cadillac had been before who later became as intangible as the summer wind.

Hudson kept his promise and brought his daughter back to the park once the hour of wonder would begin. Once the sun slid to a certain place on the western skies, it was as if a switch had been turned on. Rich gold streaked through the clouds in a brilliant sunburst pattern, gilding the their edges and lighting the tips of the distant eastern mountains behind. As the colors shifted, they painted the chrome touches of the two silent viewers like watercolors. It all was more beautiful than Grace could have ever hoped for. She realized anew how deeply her father had loved her mother, to treat her to a place as unexpectedly stellar as this. This must have been one of the best kept secrets in Thomasville. For Hudson the remembrances were bittersweet, yet this time there was more sweetness than bitterness. Thirty years ago he had shared the natural wonder with the greatest love of his life and now there was the parallel with the one in his life he loved most. He never could have hoped for such a chance and was grateful for the goodness he had been given in life that prevailed over the bad. All would never be lost.

The show ended far too soon it felt, but for what it had lasted it was enjoyed profusely. Grace didn't turn away until seeing the first star come out. She hadn't words though for what she had witnessed and felt, instead letting the kiss she lovingly placed on her father's front fender speak far greater meaning.

. . . .

There wasn't just a single time the two saw Jimmy whilst they lingered in Thomasville. The one other instance was when he hailed at the hotel they had lodged at and seemed very intent on sharing some specific news. He laid it out plain once he had gathered with both cars in the hotel's small outdoor courtyard. "I was going through stuff the other day. I keep a lot in my junk closet and found these reels. I was going to toss 'em but then I decided maybe there was something good on them so I set 'em aside for laters. I tossed one in last night and – I don't know how I got it or when now – it was of one of your races, boss."

Hudson realized there was no un-training Jimmy from calling him the moniker he did when they worked together and so corrected nothing. He remained a fraction wary though. "It was, was it?" he asked.

Grace's eyes went wide. Was it too much to hope for that she could see something like this?

Jimmy nodded. "It sure was. It was of when you beat that one rookie. Remember the rookie?"

The old car couldn't help but wear a satisfied smile. "I do. Never forgot him."

"He probably never forgot you either. Boy howdy, when ya showed him who was boss and won that race, I think you probably grinned for a week."

Grace looked back and forth between the little forklift and her father, confused. She didn't know all about this.

"What was on the other reel?" Hudson inquired. Jimmy regretfully turned grave.

"1954," he replied, code name that both understood was the crash. Grace instantly knew this as well. The forklift turned to her.

"You interested in seeing the one with the rookie, Miss? It's pretty exciting." he said. The younger Cadillac shook her hood.

"No, sir. I need to see both." Hudson rose up on his shocks at this unexpected news.

"I'm not sure if you really want to see the one, Grace. I won't stop you if you're certain, but you have to know it isn't pretty." he warned. She turned to him with a gentle look in her pale-blue eyes.

"Your crash is what tested you and Mama's marriage and she stayed true to you the entire time during and after. I need to see what she saw to realize further her strength, and…" she trailed off.

"And what?" Hudson asked. Jimmy looked between the two with the curiosity he had never lost.

"And I need to understand what happened to be even more grateful I am to still have you, Daddy."

. . . .

The film flickered and fizzled with grain and dust flecks initially but smoothed out to surprisingly decent quality once it got rolling. Jimmy sat silently in the corner, out of the way of Grace who had accepted his invitation to his humble home. Hudson knew she had to see this on her own and remained at the hotel, waiting for the sort of return he could only expect after what his daughter would witness. Jimmy watched the emotions register in the beautiful Cadillac's eyes as she watched the film play across the pull-down screen the forklift had set up. The joy and excitement was evident in her gaze as she watched her father in the brightest days of his youth, commanding the race with awesome driving skills that even she, as an average driver, could appreciate. He knew precisely how to turn around other cars in his way, when to, and how insanely close to come without actually brushing against them. Grace gasped more than once and her jaw truly fell when she saw her father's conquest of the rookie.

"He flipped right over him!" she exclaimed with child-like excitement when the reel ended. Jimmy smiled.

"He sure did. Your dad was the most daring yet also the smartest racecar I ever knew. He was an incredible driver, but you could see that."

"I never would have known." Grace murmured.

"He and I had our differences, but I was proud to work for him." Jimmy mused. "Hey, you sure you still want to see this other reel?"

Grace nodded with surety. "I am," she told. Jimmy slowly removed the watched reel, replacing it in turn with the next one that looked no different yet contained such different emotions. "Alright, honey." he said. "But it's not going to be easy." he gently told her as he powered it up.

It started off as exciting as any other normal race would have. Grace watched the car she had never seen go faster than 20 mph in town limits forge ahead with power she'd never expected, with an engine so strong sounding she nearly pulled back in shock. He knew every intricacy of his chosen profession and ruled the track as if it were made for him and him only. This is why it became even more shocking when he turned for his famous drift; when his engine seized up and he could not stop. Grace's blue eyes were terror-struck yet she never looked away as the crash took place, even though it was far crueler to her father than even newspaper reports let on. The sound of his frame slamming into the earth again and yet again was the symphony from hell. When he finally came to a stop and Grace could see all that had been inflicted upon her beloved, sole parent, she burst out in tears. She didn't notice when the film flickered, skipped and came to its end. Still she sobbed, for her father who had never deserved such, for her mother whom she knew suffered something too similar which killed her.

Jimmy knew nothing "just right" to say but came over anyway to offer any comfort.


	66. Chapter 66

66~

 **THE 21** **st** **CENTURY  
** ** _SOMETIME IN THE 2000s_**

He was young. He was reckless. He thought little of life's difficulties and certainly wouldn't put much stock anything someone a lot older than he would say. His main concern was ruling the racetrack well and making sure his competitors stayed far back in the side-mirrors of life. He never thought about something called mortality. It was in the far future, very far, and therefore it did not exist.

Lightning McQueen, a flashy red racecar with the number 95 painted across a befitting lightning bolt on his sides, had made his coup in his most recent competition, answered anything the reporters asked, and had a smattering of photographs taken which were spread across every publication in the nation from _The Daily Exhaust_ to _The Rear View Mirror_. He was living high and would feel even higher once he could make his way to California in hopes of wooing the sponsors he so wanted most.

Success and fame he had now, but greater success and broader fame could be had as he pursued all that he desired. He didn't think of anything in between that could hamper it. His destination was A to B. He did not think of there being any detour between them.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~

He was old. He was wiser. He though too often of life's hardships and didn't trust too many of the young. His main concern was watching over his town and the residents within it, and seeking justice for those who deserved it; hence why he had finally opted to become the town's judge when his career as their doctor fizzled out to be practically nonexistent aside from the few here and there that needed their sparkplugs changed. There was no one for him to conquer in the side-mirror of life. The majority of it had all bypassed him. He thought too often of mortality, as the instances he'd lived through in life made it not distant, but the phantom which never left him.

Hudson Hornet, an ex-racecar retired in the brightest years of his youth, had been more or less forgotten by the racing circuit. Only a few could remember the glorious #51 who had driving skills many envied and a classical drift that was beautiful in its usually flawless execution. Usually being because in 1954 it hadn't been, sending him for a literally shattering crash that tore from him the only career he knew.

Success he'd had once. Fame was primarily forgotten. He knew there was no such thing as a clean cut from destinations A to B. In between lay a myriad of happenstances. Some were terrible. Some were beautiful.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~

She was younger than one yet older than the other. She had lived through good times yet knew way too much of the bad. She kept her heart open though and didn't look at anyone younger than her as a potential threat. She was loving and kind generally yet would always harbor hatred towards the two who had sent her mother to a too-early death.

Grace Hornet, the daughter of a past-champion and a golden-hearted dreamer, had dedicated her life to those she loved, the main one being her father, the rest being her friends. She had forgone marriage, knowing if she had made the leap, she would spend the whole union questioning its opposites from the remarkable union her parents shared. Her father had said once decades before that she'd likely wish to get married for the sake of getting a new surname, but she was proud of what she wore. No one else knew the significance of a title as simple as "Miss Hornet," but for her it was everything, for when she was a child she had been entranced by the racing world, specifically one #51 – the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. She was his daughter, an honor she would always proudly wear and keep.

He had lost his wife – his dearest friend and confidante. He had lost his two other children who'd stay forever young, the sort of young that never knew life. Grace would wear his name always though. He would not lose her.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~

The pair sat together overlooking Willy's Butte, a place steeped in silence for many decades now. One had seen more than he ever hoped to in the past fifty-odd years. One had seen much of the same yet escaped to see other things better. She had lived away from the fading desert community for a portion of years but the lure of what she'd known longer called her back. The home Hudson had first known was a place he couldn't stay, but his daughter was luckier, or she had stronger resilience, perhaps. Despite all she'd known so far, the light of youth never left Grace, making many believe she was younger than her years. She had attracted a fair number of potential suitors since becoming an adult in the lost past, yet never went further with any of them. The kisses she had given her courters were numbered ones until the last would come with the heartfelt wish for him to have a fine life, as "things would never work between us."

"Do you have any regrets, Grace?" her father asked of her that day. She looked to him with eyes of pure love.

"I think they're more pondering thoughts than real regrets. I wonder some things often, Daddy." she said to him.

"What things?" he inquired.

"The 'what-if's' of life. What would things have been like had Mama lived? What if I had found the rare love you shared? What if I had had children? What if my brother and sister had lived?"

The old blue coupe shook his hood in the wordless gesture such warranted. "I don't know, honey."

"What if," the Cadillac began and waited until her father's storied eyes met hers. "What if you had chosen to love Helen Sparks?"

"She would have been cheated from what she deserved. I couldn't have made her happy." he answered, quiet.

"You really think that?" Grace asked.

"I don't think it. I know it, darling." he told.

"Do you think she found what she hoped for?"

Hudson's gaze fell out across the red-rock landscape before them where the sun hinted even greater hues in the stone. "I can only hope she did, Grace. She didn't have a very good situation with her prior relationship and was worthy of something a lot better. I hope she found just that."

The silence fell and Grace considered her father's words and the caring heart he had to allow for others what he had lost. "Daddy," she began after a number of minutes, "how hard was it for you to never remarry after losing Mama?" She asked as his daughter but also as the woman she was to hope to understand every facet of his choice.

"It was hard, Grace." he said to her. "Hard, but not in the conventional sense where my greatest hope was for someone else to come into my life. Your mother was the only lady I could love in the way I did. She was a rare type. She was the part of my life I didn't realize I was missing until she filled it. There are a lot of variations in love, I think. Some can be easier to find again and others are just scarce. When your mother asked me what I'd do if something ever happened to her, I answered that I'd never remarry. I guess it could seem like I said something like that to just assure her, but I meant it. The last thing I ever wanted to do would be to have that tested in reality, but even if that time came – and of course it did – I thought not to once ever go back on that. I would not remarry. You became the most important thing in my life after losing her, not looking for some other companion. I realize in a lot of ways that was wrong to you. I depended on you too much. I've relied on you more than is fair. I apologize for that, Grace."

The seafoam-green Cadillac leaned up into indigo-blue side with loving affection. "I never felt that way, once. You have nothing to be sorry about, Daddy. You did the best you knew how for me and raised me far better than many could ever hope to be. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you for my father. I never saw the ways you were as being too reliant. I wanted to do what I could then as I do now to offset what happened when we both lost our way."

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~

The youngest one embarked on his trip to California to impress his hoped-for sponsors. Again he only thought of Points A to B and nary a thing between them. He suspected nothing. When his hauler, Mack, pointed out somewhere on an unknown stretch of highway that he was drifting towards being more than a little tired, the red racer promised to bolster his wakefulness by staying up with him. But that wasn't to work. Tired from his recent races also, the car wearing a number 95 across thunderbolts on his sides slipped off to sleep also. His hauler did the same soon after.

Lightning McQueen found himself awake next in the middle of the roadway, horns of all decibel sounding at him for being in their owner's pathway. His blue eyes instantly sprang open in terror. How did he get here? Why? He couldn't question that. All he knew was that he had to hopefully catch up with Mack and set things right.

The truck he hailed was the wrong one and ended up being rather ticked about the red racer calling him by the wrong make. "I'm no Mack, I'm a Peterbilt!" he snapped before driving away into the darkness of the unknown desert on an unknown road with his load of junk and batteries. Growing more panicky by the second, the young car swerved around and tore off down the strip of pavement that would change so much for him.

Heralding the name, a worn shield-shaped sign rimmed with reflectors proclaimed what Lightning McQueen did not yet know.

Route 66.

The Mother Road.

His speeding entrance awoke the old police car who had camped out nightly at the entrance sign for Radiator Springs. Reckless drivers were something he'd never tolerate being a member of the law, but he had accepted them even less after 1959 when delinquents of such caliber had killed Cornelia Hornet. Cranking over his engine and switching on his flashing lights, he tore after the red car. "Not in my town, you don't." he muttered as he gunned his motor to go faster than it had in years. Delinquents and speeders were the last thing welcome.

The young car's entrance into town was less than peaceful as he crashed first into a string of cones set up on the road then pinballed between multitudes of other places. At the V8 Café, Flo and her husband watched the scene with gradually widening eyes. Their town hadn't had excitement in a long time, but this wasn't exactly a great brand of it to have either. Every resident who was awake couldn't help but stare at the sight. When they thought it couldn't get any worse, this unknown visitor – wrapped in barbed wire after colliding with a boundary fence – got entangled with the statue of the town's founder, Stanley, and upon tearing it from its base, proceeded to speed crazily down the cracked asphalt of Main Street. Ramone stared wordlessly as Stanley's passage ripped up what remained of their road. He didn't have good feelings about this meeting.

When Lightning McQueen finally arrived at a halt, Sheriff, his lights still blazing, rolled up to him and said the words the red racer least wanted to hear. "Boy, you're in a heap of trouble." The red racer had a funny feeling his adventure was just beginning.


	67. Chapter 67

67~

Hudson stared down his dark blue hood at the acquitted. He was a punk, a delinquent and even worse, he was a racecar. Everything the old coupe didn't like was represented in one individual and he automatically disliked him, strongly. The kid's racer career made Hudson instantly remember his past that had failed him. His smart-aleck sort of countenance and general nonchalance about wrecking the town reminded the old car too sharply of a Porsche and Bentley in 1959 who had sent his wife to her untimely death. He saw a shred of their personality in this unforeseen visitor and that settled with him even worse.

His instant reaction upon driving in and seeing first the mess of the road and then the wrong-doer, was to send him out of town and preferably the whole lot of Carburetor County. He didn't want the punk lingering around any longer than purely necessary, but his wants were overridden by the plea in the eyes of the townsfolk and most of all in the eyes of his daughter. It was plain for him to see she wanted something done about this not by someone else, but the one who had vandalized the main part of the town. "I'm sentencing you to community service," he directed towards the red car. "You're going to fix our road under my supervision."

Satisfied cheers resounded through the courtroom although none looked as happy as Grace, who flashed her father a broad smile when he looked her way. The acquitted stamped his tire on the polished wood floor. "You've _got_ to be joking." he muttered, although no one seemed to have heard him much to his chagrin. Ending up in this town was feeling like the worst mistake he ever could make.

Once he was assured that both Sheriff and Mater got the delinquent in order to start repairing the road, Hudson returned home. He had no desire to see or hear anymore than he'd already witnessed. Beneath the fluorescents of his office he sat, the light gleaming sharply across his dark paint. He couldn't shake the instant dislike he'd taken to the red racer. It wasn't simply his career and the fact he'd torn apart the old main road either that did it. The attitude the kid copped didn't sit well with the old car either. All he knew for sure was that he didn't enjoy the idea of the one named Lightning McQueen staying in town any longer than need be.

Grace also chose to oversee the repairs of the road much to the annoyance of the delinquent who considered this whole thing to be humiliating and didn't want an audience ogling. "Do you even know what I am?!" he finally demanded of the late 50s Cadillac.

"You're a racecar," she answered. "Yes, I can see that."

"Of _course_ I'm a racecar! Do you understand how famous I am?!" he exclaimed. Grace offered a smile that's charm was lost upon the kid.

"I admittedly don't follow the circuit like I used to,"

To Lightning, this was near blasphemy and he proceeded to illustrate every aspect of his career, his hoped-for sponsors in California (where he should have been that moment), and the desire for the coveted Piston Cup. He didn't notice the recognition pass in the Cadillac's soft-blue eyes upon the mention of the trophy that had been won unknowingly to him by her very father three times. When the kid finished his tirade, Grace simply nodded.

"I suppose I can understand, but there's a lot more to life than just one thing. Don't hang your hopes on that when you don't even know what would be happening now in California had you not gotten lost here. You're here now. Make the most of it." she said.

"Make the most of it by being held against my will to fix a road?!" he cried.

"Make the most of it by being open-minded." she told him before offering a last smile as she turned to leave. The old police car took her place, his eyes stern and unwavering.

Grace left the complaining delinquent to turn smoothly into the driveway of the Mechanical Clinic where upon nosing open the front doors was unsurprised to see the car she knew best parked within. Slowly she drove forward and drew to a quiet halt beside him. "Hello again, Grace." he greeted. She gave him a friendly nuzzle on the front fender.

"Hello to you as well, Daddy." she replied.

"Well… is he doing it?" the coupe asked, mentioning neither the red racer's name nor his assigned duty.

"Yes, he is. And complaining a mile a minute also." she laughed.

"Now why did I expect that?"

"He'll get over it. I tried to tell him that he should make the most of it while he's here, but I'm pretty sure he looked at me as if I weren't running on all eight cylinders."

"If he looks at you again like that," Hudson replied, "I'll find an even tougher task for him to do along with paving the road." Grace couldn't help but laugh once more.

"If you did that, we'd never hear the end of the complaining! Do you really want that?"

He considered. "No, I reckon not. Still, I don't like the idea of some punk looking at my little girl as if she's a kook."

"I can hold my own, Daddy." she assured, giving him a smile he could appreciate. "Who I really wish could supervise him is Mama. She'd be sure to not let him slack off."

"That's very true," Hudson agreed. "You're a lot like her though to hold that position in your own way." The Cadillac smiled softly at the bittersweet sort of comparison of her mother to her. She always felt proud of such.

"Was it shocking for you to see him? Because he was – is – a racecar?" the younger asked. The blue coupe finally nodded.

"I didn't expect that." he admitted.

"You just looked so… _angry_ when you saw him. I've never seen you look like that." Grace pointed out. The old blue car met her gaze with his shadowed eyes.

"I've looked that way before; I just try to not face you with it. The ones that killed your mother got all that and a lot worse." he said to her.

"But… this young man hasn't done anything half so horrible to anyone – I hope! What upset you that much?" she pressed. He sighed.

"A lot and nothing, honey. Because he is obviously a racer, looking at him instantly reminds me of something I used to know. For all the good it did, bringing your mother and me together, I'd like to forget the majority of the rest. Thinking about it makes me questions things too much. If I hadn't been in my crash in '54 or hadn't been turned down at the lineup, there's a much better possibility about things being different so your mother would be alive still."

"But you don't know that for sure." she offered.

"That's true, Grace. I don't. Seeing that punk also reminds me too much of the two that did kill your mother; the arrogant behavior and lack of respect." he finished. The Cadillac leaned in to give her father a long, loving nuzzle.

"He's not the same as them, Daddy. He may be arrogant, true. He may be disrespectful, also true. He's not malicious though. He's not like the two that killed Mama. He's simply young and thinks he knows everything. Like some of the cars you competed against in your races."

"You've made your point very clear, darling." he said to her, softly smiling.

"Give him a chance?" she asked. For his daughter he went against his now-ingrained response.

"You know I've been wary to trust a lot of folks for a long time, but… I'll give him a chance."

. . . .

As if Lightning McQueen thought his day was already down the drain it plummeted to the ultimate depths when the sleek blue car who had sentenced him to this rotten job smoothly pulled up to supervise him.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I don't want anything. I'm here to keep an eye on you to make sure you're doing your community service right." the old car answered evenly. "If you're going to fix that road, I'm going to make sure you fix it right."

"Oh great." the red car scoffed. "First of all, what do you even know about fixing a road?"

"Enough that I know it's supposed to be smooth." he answered. "And to get it like that, you have to go slow. This isn't a hasty job."

Lightning stamped his front tire. "I can't spend forever doing this! I'm supposed to be in California right _now_. I'm not supposed to be here, fixing this dumb road that no one but what few of you actually live in this hillbilly hell use. I'm not supposed to be answering to you! I'm a very famous racecar, but what do you know or even understand about that, Grandpa?!"

"Are you through?" Hudson retorted, his tone dry. Lightning stared to the distant point where he could stop paving – an eternity away – and grunted.

"Yeah. For now." he muttered.

"I'll see you later on then." the coupe answered and slowly pulled away. He was replaced by the seafoam-green Cadillac Lightning had already seen. Her pale-blue eyes were far from amused. She pulled up before him and said in a tone so strict he was forced to face her with full attention, "Don't you _ever_ speak to him again like that."

"Hey I – "

"No, listen. I'll tolerate you being smart with me but I will not stand you being that way to him. He doesn't deserve that. What he does deserve is having you think before you speak so you can be kinder to him. Do you understand me, young man?"

He was taken aback by this sort of confrontation but it was plain to him that the Cadillac meant what she said and wasn't jesting.

"Okay, sure. Calm down, alright?" he muttered.

"If you're going to be in our town, you'll have to play by our rules. Our credo is respecting each other no matter our differences. I want to see you do the same, please." she warned.

"Alright! I get it!" he exclaimed. A gentler smile graced her features.

"By the way, it would be kind if you called him by name too, not 'grandpa.'"

"Well, he sure looks old enough to be one."

This statement made Grace think back on her life and of her own choices that had made the present day what it was. She still wondered what things could have been like; the plague of "what if's." She met the red racer's eyes again.

"Looks are one thing, Lightning. He's not one."

He struggled to continue towing the paving machine affectionately known as "Bessie," and mulled over everyone in this unusual town. "Hey look," he began, glancing over at her, "who even are you? What do you care about what I call that old timer?"

The Cadillac turned to pull by him, both facing the end of the road where the damage stopped. "I care so much," she began, "because 'that old timer' is my father and he means the world to me."


	68. Chapter 68

68~

He fixed the road, unwillingly. And he did not follow the advice of the old blue coupe. He fixed the road but did it hastily. He looked to the gathered group of most of the townsfolk. "There, it's done! All you have to do is say 'thank you' and I'll be on my way. All you have to say is that."

Flo peered around Bessie to the splats of asphalt coating the cracked road behind the red racer. She then looked back to him. "Honey," she began, "it looks awful."

"Well, it matches the rest of the town now, doesn't it?" he sassed. The proprietress of the Cozy Cone, a baby-blue Porsche named Sally, gasped.

"Who do you think you are?" she demanded. This wasn't the response Lightning McQueen was prepped for. He felt cross.

"Look, I did exactly what I was ordered to do by that old guy!" he retorted. What he didn't expect was to see the blue coupe slowly pull up last to join the group. He turned around to face Lightning head-on.

"The deal was you fix the road, not make it worse. Now scrape it off, and start over again!"

The young car rolled his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, Grandpa, by I'm not a bulldozer. I'm a racecar."

Hudson tried to keep his ire in check although how well he did was unknown to him. "Is that right?" he deadpanned. "Why don't we have a little race then, me and you?"

The gathered group from Sheriff to Luigi all looked at Hudson, a car they all loved and respected, as if suddenly he'd stopped running on all eight cylinders. Him, race? It was a preposterous notion. Even Grace, who had parked beside Flo, couldn't help but feel confused. She knew her father better than anyone and knew he wouldn't suddenly reveal his carefully hidden past now in front of an unexpected kid. The fact he had once been a famous racecar was something no one had ever known there aside from she and her mother. And Ramone when he repainted the coupe, but he didn't remember, so it didn't count. Grace slowly pulled up more but was unable to meet her father's eyes, intent on the youngest member.

"Me and you? That's a joke, right?" Lightning laughed. "Not trying to be rude here, but you probably can go zero-to-sixty in 3.5 _years_?"

"Then I reckon you've got nothing to worry about." Hudson answered, amiable. The red racer found himself smiling.

"That's a great idea, old timer. Let's race."

Hudson and the visitor found themselves parked beside one another facing the old track at Willy's Butte where weekend races hadn't been held in many decades and where Hudson had raced for his wife alone the last time a century ago. The kid felt smart and cocky at the idea of beating the much older car alongside him. It would be the easiest race he'd ever been in. "Float like a Cadillac, sting like a Beemer." Lightning said, giving himself a pep talk that made his companion look over at him before returning his gaze out at the track before him, his intent secret and his choice naught. Although it was possible – in some very slight way – he could be tempted to drive his fastest another time, he wouldn't. Not now. He knew what he could do. He had a rough idea of what the kid couldn't.

When the call came to start engines, the coupe made his sound decrepit and weak. The kid scoffed and showed off upon starting his. Grace, parked on the stretch of desert alongside the track, looked from McQueen to her father, her confusion still rampant but now understanding that somewhere her father had a plan. He had plotted something. Something to teach the visitor? At the countdown to go, the red car sporting a #95 shot forward like a rocket, leaving Hudson literally in the dust where he still silently sat, focused on going nowhere. His once glossy paint very quickly acquired a sepia-like tinge to it from the red dust blanketing it. The townsfolk remained baffled.

The next thing Lightning knew, he had come into a curve on the track, turned sharply to conquer it yet went sailing over the edge of small cliff, yelling the whole while and even more when landing in a patch of cacti. Hudson knew this would happen. The kid had no knowledge of driving on dirt and certainly no knowledge of how to drift around a curve. With the tow truck Mater following, the now-dusty coupe looked over the edge at the cactus-riddled rookie. "Was that floating like a Cadillac, or was that stinging like a Beemer? I'm confused! You drive like you fix roads: _LOUSY_."

. . . .

As evening fell Lightning McQueen did as requested by the town judge: scraping off the bad work he'd done on the road so he could start over again. From afar Hudson watched him, his expression something between amused and a little exasperated. How he wished Cornelia could have been there to see this. What would she have done to set it right? Could she have persuaded a smart-aleck youth to do something without having to throw them in cactus patch? Undoubtedly she would. On the flip side though, Hudson found no delight in the idea of Lightning sass-talking the sweet-hearted woman who had been his nearest companion. It was more than bad enough when he had treated Grace as if she were crazy. If the kid had had the chance to give Cornelia lip on top of that, why, Hudson was near certain he'd have barred him from the town and would have had Sheriff ban him from the whole county. Not that the kid would come back. As soon as his work there was done, Hudson was sure he'd never see him again. And really, that was settling just fine. Try as he might, it was difficult to be courteous to someone who had no intentions of returning it.

Still though, he wished – as he wished thousands of times prior – that Cornelia was there alongside him.

Grace tried her hardest to befriend Lightning. As she had been her whole life, she tried to give most anyone the benefit of the doubt and hope there was goodness underneath a kept façade somewhere. She maintained kindness around the young car, hoping to crack that very façade at some point to figure out who he really was. What she did make clear to him though was that he ought to stop insulting and being generally rude to her father. Lightning was perpetually shocked at the level of care and even protection the Cadillac had for the old Hornet. Had he thought deeper, perhaps he could have realized there was something important that had warranted this behavior, but he didn't. He simply decided everyone in Radiator Springs was a little off their nut and a Miss Hornet was no different.

Now at that day's end Grace pulled up into the lot of the Mechanical Clinic for a few more minutes with her sole parent before returning to her own home. She parked beside her father before the front plate-glass window. The glow of the building's name streaked across their hoods in abstract twists and turns.

"I won't lie… he's a very tough customer, Daddy." she said, laughing softly. "That says a lot given how many I've waited on at the V8 for the past dozens of years."

"I can understand that completely, darling. Ever since he's been here I've been hoping he doesn't need any sort of work I can do. Let's hope he got his oil filters and antifreeze changed before he came here." he replied with a good-spirited smile directed at her.

"Let's hope that for sure." she nodded but her mood quickly changed. "I just hate the way he treats you…"

"I hate the way he treats you worse, Grace. I've had my fair share of encounters with all sorts in my life, good and bad. I don't pay it any heed after awhile. If he keeps up being rude to you though, I swear I'll find some worse job for him." he swore.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it alright." she promised and smiled anew. "I admit I rather enjoyed it when he landed in the cactus. Is that bad?"

"No honey, because something tells me your mother would say the same."

"How did you know he'd do as you planned?" she inquired. He looked down the main road to where the subject car loudly complained as he scraped the road.

"They don't race on dirt anymore, Grace, not like things were when I was younger. To put it most simply, he can't race on a dirt track the same way as I couldn't race on pavement. We weren't trained for the opposite. It's all driving, just different styles and techniques though."

Grace considered this, again recalling the earlier "race," only mock for her father. "Can I ask you something?" she began. "I hope it's not too… prying."

"You can ask me anything, Grace. There's no need to be worried." he assured her with his commonplace gentleness.

"When you saw the track in a racing sort of situation with him – at a lineup like you use to know – were you…" she hesitated. Was it right to continue? He simply waited patiently, not filling in any words for her. "Were you even tempted to race; to show him what you know?" she finally finished. He considered her inquiry. He had asked himself that same question.

"It's complicated, darling." he finally allowed. "When everything with it went well, racing was one of the best parts of my life. Even when you've been retired as long as I've been, there are still times you remember going your fastest; feeling the wind pass by as you cut through it at a speed you'll never know off the track. You remember the dangers that were constant yet also the thrill. I didn't race to win – I raced because it was my first love and made me happy. So many times I want to forget it all but I know I never will. It's ingrained in me. Your mother said to me something I've never forgotten; 'You weren't born a racecar but were meant to be one.' I think that's part of why I'll never forget my past. Would I try racing again though, here? I don't think I have the courage, Grace. I don't know if I have what I used to have to try."

._._._._._._._._.

He came under the summons of his only grandchild, her insistence to him plain and clear in a way he had known from his lost daughter – her mother. He had heard every detail about the cocky visitor new to the town and took matters into his own tires to set things right. Even if his wife had every power on her side, she could never change his intent entirely.

Lightning McQueen awoke, groggy, to the blast of a horn outside his door at the cone he slept at. He glanced at the clock and saw it wasn't even 8 in the morning. He was beat from his road-paving duties and simply returned to drowsing. The horn blared again, louder, if that was possible. He glared. "Alright, alright. Hold on, jeez." he grumbled. He took his sweet time yawning and then stretching before he finally hit the switch to roll up the door, finding himself instantly awake and what faced him. The visitor was a metal-flake gold car with black front and rear fenders decorated in yellow pinstripes as well. His metal-flaking didn't just glimmer in the sunlight – it sparkled. He was fancy enough to be a show car; immaculate in every way from his large, chrome-housed headlights to his flawless white-walls. Lightning met the visitor's sharp brown eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded, ill again at being woken. The late 1930s car surveyed him with a no-nonsense expression.

"The name's Charles Eldorado, sonny boy." he replied in a rich, baritone voice that seemed to just fit the way he looked. "You call me 'Charlie' or 'Chuck' and I will personally send your ass into next year." He flashed a broad grin that offered no joy or humor to his words.

"Uh, gee. Nice to meet ya. Hey look… I've been working hard and am _really_ tired. You actually woke me up. So… if you could come back _later_ , I'll just get back to sle – "

"Oh no you don't, punk!" Charles fired back, snagging the red car in his grasp. Lightning strived to pull away but the old car was much stronger than he expected. He pouted.

"What do you want?! I don't know you!"

The Cadillac Fleetwood finally let him go. "Look kid," he started, staring across his banquet table-like hood. "I'm here looking at your ugly mug because of a very specific reason."

"Yeah and?" the red racer demanded, burning inwardly at the insult.

"You've been rude to my granddaughter, for starters."

"Well, who's your granddaughter? I have no idea."

"Her name is Grace. Grace Hornet. She's that sweet girl with the light green paint – another blessed Cadillac like me here. For your information, she's not just my only granddaughter but my only grandchild in general and I don't take to you being a pompous asshat to her. Doesn't fly with me, pal. You say you're famous – I wouldn't know because I've never followed that circuit. Fame doesn't give you a pass to be a disrespectful idiot. I've been _in_ famous the better part of my life and I still had more smarts going on."

Lightning didn't ask about the reason for infamy. "Okay, nice speech. Can I go now?"

The Fleetwood shook his sparkling hood. "Nice shot, kid, but no. You and I are going to have a nice man-to-man talk. Well… man to _boy_ , seeing I'm the only one qualifying as a genuine man right now. Get your rusty bumper out of that cone right now and follow me. Our day is just beginning."


	69. Chapter 69

69~

Grace delivered the asked for oil quarts to Lightning McQueen and to her grandfather. "Let me know if you need anything else." she cheerfully told the two, offering a more secret smile to her relative. Charles returned the smile. "I surely will, honey. Thanks kindly." Lightning sucked on his straw as the younger Cadillac moved away.

"You'll need more than one refill but you'd better have the greenbacks to pay for it. I only pay for what the ladies in my life want, you read me, pal?" Charles announced.

"Loud and clear, pal." Lightning mocked him.

"Don't give me your lip. I wasn't kidding when I said I'd throw you into next year." Charles snapped before turning his attention to his own beverage. Unfortunately the V8 didn't sell alcohol so he'd have to make do with this for now. He hoped it'd get him through this meeting with some punk kid. Some silence passed, both watching Grace and Flo making their rounds to the locals and striking up conversation.

"Alright now," Charles began. "Let's talk like civil males. Again, I'd like to make it clear how much I don't appreciate your rude behavior to that sweet girl. I had the best daughter in the world and Grace is the best granddaughter I could hope for also. I don't agree with the idea of anyone bossing her around. It's not right. A woman is a beautiful creation and being rude to one is on the verge of blasphemy. You always treat them nice, no matter who they are to you. I don't give a damn whether or not you knew my granddaughter before you came here – you know her now and should start cleaning up your act. I did a lot of wrong things in my past, but the whole of my life at some point or another has been dedicated to the feminine persuasion and once I finally cleaned up _my_ act, nothing took importance more than my wife. She and Grace are all I have left in immediate relations and I'm sure as shit not going to eff up again. I'm not letting you eff around with the one thing I've got left either. Grace was a sweet girl who grew into a sweet woman. She reminds me of my own little girl in every good way and for Mary Ellen and I, it's like we didn't lose our daughter forever after all."

Lightning sucked on his oil, silently taking in everything he heard. Whether or not he learned from it was undetermined. Charles didn't wait for any responses. "When you're young, you sit around on your rubbers and think you're the king of the world. I know because I was that way at that time of my life. You think you know everything and have nothing to learn from anyone. That's dead wrong though. You can learn a lot from others, and I sure hope you're listening and will consider the things I've said so far. Don't mock me with the wisdom claptrap though because I'm not wise. Far from it. I said I was infamous earlier. You want to know why? I made a habit – a hobby really – of pleasing women. It's still my favorite thing to do; I just dedicate those efforts towards one woman only: my wife. The whole state of Colorado knows my name because of what I did. Infamy is fame in its own way so you could say I was famous for my behavior which isn't something in the long haul to be proud of, kid. So you're the hot-shot racecar, but do you really want to be famous on the side for also being rude and inconsiderate to women and anyone else older than you? I'd ask myself real seriously about that one. If you do and are honest, you'll say 'no.' That's nothing to be proud of. You came into this town because you got lost and therefore, you also dicked up the road. Your fixing job looks good so far, keep up on that same pattern. You came here mad at everyone under the sun it sounds like to me when there's no reason for it."

"They're making me fix the road! They made me scrape it off! I'm not a construction machine!" Lightning spat.

"Who told you to fix the road? Who's making sure you do it right?" Charles inquired, knowingly.

"The judge! What's his name? Hudson."

Charles nodded his sparkling hood. "That's right. The husband of my daughter and the father to Grace. So far as I'm interested, you keep your mouth shut around him too. How would you like losing someone you gave your heart to? You have no comprehension of that sort of pain. I admit I wasn't fond of him in the beginning because of other matters, but I've known him plenty long enough now to say he's a good guy and is a better man than I could ever be. He's dedicated to my daughter with faithfulness that I never had until 1959. What happened in '59? My daughter died, that's what. It took something that tragic for me to clean up my act and I'll never entirely forgive myself for that. What matters I guess is that I finally did straighten out. It's not too late for you to straighten out either."

Grace came back again then and smiled to both of them, directing a more endearing version to McQueen. "Enjoying you day with my granddad, Lightning?" she asked.

He fought back the urge to be sarcastic, simply voting something that'd be the least likely to get the older car going again. "Yeah. It's great." he answered, noncommittal. She didn't press the point and simply turned to Charles.

"Enjoying your day with our visitor, Granddad?" she asked, sweet. He smiled.

"It's a great day, honey. Why? Forget about our friend here. You're in it. That makes it brighter." he told her. She shyly smiled.

"Aww, well thank you for saying so." she replied and leaned in to give the older Cadillac a loving nuzzle on one of his front ebony fenders. Lightning looked away from the exchange between relatives. When she left Charles got fired up again, much to McQueen's dismay.

"What do you think of my granddaughter, sonny boy?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sucking the rest of the oil from his can.

"Exactly what I say." he answered.

"She's not my thing." the younger countered. Charles glared.

"Holy Ford, I didn't mean what you thought of her romantically! You're too damned young for her anyhow. Get your grille out of the gutter. You're acting worse than me."

"She's okay," Lightning allowed, vague. Charles's glare intensified.

"That's a mighty small word to describe someone as sweet as her, but I can see your mind is dinky also. Since you mentioned romance though, how're things for you in that direction? If there's anything I know how to do right, it's woo a woman." he stated, inspecting his own empty quart.

"I don't have anyone at this time, thanks." he answered, bored.

"RIGHT and _why_ don't you?" Charles interjected and answered the question himself. "Because you're a cocky idiot who can't get his attention past the end of his hood! If I can look beyond my big hood, you can with your puny one. It's time you meet an incredible woman so you know what to look forward to when you make that leap. Come with me, squirt."

They returned to the Cozy Cone and Charles straightened up to a rakish pose proceeding knocking on the door of the Number 4 unit. "Keep your eyes open, kid." he directed to uninterested Lightning as the door rolled open. Within he saw a pale-yellow 1940s car, another Cadillac judging by the emblem crowning the nose of her hood. Her smile was shockingly youthful and sweet. "Why hello, Charles." she greeted and said a hello to the youngest car as well. The Fleetwood leaned over to give her a kiss no less than loving. Upon her pulling out, he looped his longer frame around and parked next to her. His stance spoke volumes of how much he adored the woman in question, and no one would have any chance of messing with her unless they wanted to deal with him mighty bad.

"Kid, you're looking at the girl who made me a better man than I could ever hope to be. Meet Mrs. Mary Ellen Eldorado, and how glad I am she wears my last name too." he stated, flashing his wife a sidelong wink.

"Hi," Lightning greeted, plain, and told her his name, hoping she'd use it instead of calling him 'punk,' 'kid,' or any other name under the sun. He nearly added about how he was the famous racecar but figured there was no need. She didn't look like she'd care. Charles gave her a gentle nudge. "Go on, tell him." he urged her. Mary Ellen pulled slightly fore of her husband to come closer to Lightning. She leveled her pretty eyes on him.

"As you have already figured out, honey, we're Grace's grandparents. She told us about your arrival and the road and all of that. I'm very dismayed to hear about how inconsiderate you've been of the townsfolk also, but mostly her. Grace means the world to Charley and I… she's our only relation after we lost our daughter. Grace we love as the granddaughter she is, of course, but we love her the way we loved our Cornelia also. It saddens me that you've not been the most cordial to her. When Charles and I were younger, a man was always kind and considerate to a lady – no matter whom she was. He was always well mannered and the special ones could even be called courtly. I realize times have changed and I admit I don't understand youths' motives as much as I maybe could, but one thing I _do_ understand is that disrespect isn't necessary. Disrespect won't get you as far as you want to in life. You have to be kind and considerate."

Lightning glanced over at Charles Eldorado who fired him a stern look in return. He turned his attention back to the older car's much milder-looking female consort. "Okay, thanks for the information." he said, shrugging. Mary Ellen wasn't put off by his less than enthused response.

"Just think about what I said, honey. I hope you can find the good in it." she gently replied. Charles broke the moment by pulling forward, his presence instantly commanding the red racer's attention again whether he liked it or not. The Fleetwood pulled his long frame at an angle before his wife, succeeding in making Lightning back up further from her. His topaz eyes landed on Lightning.

"Alright boy, we're done here. I'm not going to give you any extra minutes to fiddle around and possibly spill insolence to my wife. I can see the gears of your mind turning with nothing good. You know what we're going to do now?" he asked, sharp.

"I have no idea." McQueen muttered. He jumped to attention when the bigger car unexpectedly shoved his glinting chrome grille inches from his front.

"We're going to head on back to the Café now and you're going to use the skills you've been taught to be a nicer kid to my granddaughter. If you can't manage to find the qualities to be a 'gentleman' you can at least be a nicer guy. Now, come along." he commanded and unwillingly, the younger car followed him.

. . . .

"Back again?"

Grace greeted the two with her hospitable smile upon seeing them parked beneath the far end of one of the V8's canopies. Charles had claimed the majority of the shade since, as he illustrated with detail, "I'm a hell of a lot older than you, I've got a very expensive paint job – it's real gold-flake, did you know that – and I don't want it messed up." Lightning had no room to argue with the Cadillac, not that he wanted to. He was loony, intimidating and everything in between and whether he wanted to believe it or not, Lightning didn't entirely doubt the pledge that he'd be "kicked into next year" if he sassed the 1930s car.

"We sure are back again, honey, for a real important reason." Charles replied to his granddaughter.

"Oh really?" she asked, looking between the two.

"Sonny-boy here would like to apologize for his crude and crass ways." the Fleetwood illustrated, fixing McQueen with a smirk that made him feel boxed into a corner. Grace laughed.

"I think you're putting words in his mouth, Granddad."

"And if I am?"

Grace gave the older car a gentle nudge. "Don't force him into anything. I don't need an apology right this minute." Lightning audibly sighed with relief. She glanced over at him. "I don't request one, but that still doesn't mean I accept you being disrespectful to anyone else in this town I love and care deeply for. Do you understand this, young man?"

"Got it. I understand." he complied. Charles turned business-like once more.

"Well, now that that's over, let's talk about something different."

"Let's," McQueen urged. The Fleetwood fired him a glare.

"I wasn't including you in this, kid. I'm talking to the girl." he snapped. Grace couldn't hide her grin at the exchange. Charles turned his attention back to her and returned the smile. "I've had enough company with babies and fools today and would be interested instead in the intelligent banter of the sweet Cadillac I call my granddaughter. When are you off work, honey?"

"Today's my half-day, so around six." she answered.

"Sounds good. If you're in the mood after this long day, I'd enjoy spending some time with you, solo. I love your grandmother to pieces but she never lets me get in more than 5 words edgewise. I've missed you a lot since I last saw you, sweetheart."

Grace looked to the father of her too-long-ago lost mother with an expression no less than loving. "I'll be glad to. I've missed you a whole lot also."


	70. Chapter 70

70~

While Grace spent the evening with her grandparents and Lightning was holed-up in his respective cone at the Motel, Hudson made the decision to while his time at the V8 after his work ended and he shuttered the Mechanical Clinic for the night. For the most part he stayed solitary, exchanging chit-chat with the other residents when the occasion warranted. He didn't expect the company when a pale-yellow early '40s car pulled next to him. She offered him a warm smile that paired perfectly with her inborn sweet look. "I hope you don't mind my company," she offered.

"Not at all, Mary Ellen." he assured her, returning a smile to her of the same kindness.

"Charles was driving me insane… he's yakking nonstop to Grace and for the first time in what feels like ever, I'm the one who can't get in a word edgewise! Usually it's the opposite." she softly laughed but then turned reflective. "He loves her so much. He may not show love in the most conventional ways at times, but he treasures her with his whole heart. He loves her in the way he admits he never showed as much as he should have to Cornelia. I know he's intimidating and very crass in his own ways, but his bark is a lot worse than his bite. A whole lot worse."

Hudson lightly nodded. "I see that now. Grace loves you both in ways I can't say. You're the other tie to her mother for her."

"No one can ever replace that role, but that means a lot to me that she sees us that way also. We love her as our granddaughter but almost like a daughter also. She's so much like Cornelia, I can scarcely believe it myself sometimes."

"She is a lot like her mother. It is a comfort that hurts in its own way." he replied. It was Mary Ellen's turn to nod.

"I can only agree, Hudson." she murmured, then gave him a light nudge. "There's something I want to let you know." she added. He met her eyes intently with his own.

"Yes, Mary Ellen?"

"Cornelia, as we know, was a very special girl – the most remarkable daughter I could hope to have had with a crazy fellow like Charles for her daddy. When he was astray in his life, Cornelia was the brightest part of mine. I always hoped the very best for her and tried to steer her the best directions possible and to make a better choice in life than what I felt like I'd made with my husband. Things between us haven't always been peaches and cream, obviously. He's a sweet man when he wants to be but can be difficult as you've seen. Cornelia got more than I ever could have directed her to though by marrying you. You made my daughter even happier than she was by habit alone, and I'm indebted forever to you for that. Her life, sadly, wasn't nearly as long as we all wanted it to be, but for the time it lasted you gave her the proverbial world. You gave her the marriage and relationship she so dreamed on. You honored her by the marriage vows too many – like my husband – sadly forgot after a fashion. You gave her Grace, a wonderful daughter she had nothing but good things to say about."

"I'd have given your daughter anything she could have asked for. Seeing her so happy meant a great deal to me. Loving her was the easiest task I've known; there's very little I wouldn't have done for her." he answered, wistful.

"That I see and know the longer I've known you. I think the only thing you'd be sure about saying 'no' to was her wish for twelve children – she told Charles and I about that once. He was terrified at the idea, I think." the older Cadillac said with a soft laugh.

"You're likely right, although I wouldn't discount the idea entirely. Saying no to Cornelia wasn't a simple thing. I think we both knew though that the idea of a dozen children was rather impossible. If she could have been satisfied by less, I would have been plenty happy with four, at the most."

Mary Ellen looked out towards the near mountains and to the stars that pricked through the deep, dark sky like the tailings of cut diamonds. "Grace's siblings would have been sweet children and wonderful adults. That I do not doubt. I wonder how they could have been, what their personality and ways they'd have, what goodness."

"We'll never know." Hudson answered, regretful.

"No, dear. We won't." she answered, and turned her attention back to him. Sometimes even she could scarcely believe the past he'd once had, that the reason her daughter had fallen for him was because of his career as a famous racecar. She'd never know it by looking at the coupe whose weary stance made him even older than his years. Although the light may have played tricks on her viewing, she could almost swear that his frame tilted – albeit slightly – crooked. Was the devastating crash that had stopped him from racing finally catching up with him for an encore later on in life? She didn't ask, but suspected something of the sort. It could never be fixed entirely.

. . . .

The evening was too delightsome to spend in the confines of a cone so Charles voted to continue the conversation with his granddaughter outside of his and Mary Ellen's unit. The air was crisply clean; invigorating in the way only a desert night could be when there would commonly be a twenty degree drop from daytime heat. Grace smiled. The day had just been perfect so far, it felt to her. She thought back again to her grandfather's one-on-one with the red racecar. "I hope you didn't scare Lightning so bad he'll leave before finishing our road!" she jested to the older car.

"I sure hope he's not that much of a pansy." Charles scoffed.

"You're intimidating, Granddad." she insisted. He looked over to her with his shockingly mild topaz gaze.

"At the end of the day, honey, I'm a whole lot more talk than action. The only time I know my action would have surpassed my words would have been if I'd faced that ones that took your mother from you and my daughter from me. Those are two asses damned to whatever hell there is. I'm sorry to be vulgar in front of you, Grace, but there is nothing better to call murderers – only worse."

She nodded her seafoam-green hood shallowly. "I know." she murmured. It was all she said yet those two words explained much. The bigger Cadillac leaned her way to reassuringly lay his fender against her own. She quietly sighed, sinking lower. "What is the best memory you have of her, Granddad?"

Charles considered her question, simple yet so hard given how little he participated in his daughter's youth due to placing his role of paramour first. He dredged up the times he was present though – in Cornelia's life yet also clear enough of mind to remember; to appreciate. There weren't as many of those times as his wife had, though. It was his turn to sigh.

"I don't know as much as I wish I did, honey. I paid for my wrongs in the ultimate way I wish was just an awful dream. She was your mother and you'll always be her child in the way she was my daughter and will always stay my little girl. I miss her every single day. One of my favorite memories of her when I reflect on it is when she was just a young thing – just learning how to get control of her driving skills – and she wanted me to play with her. Here I was, this big and intimidating car, as you say, and she wasn't afraid. Your mother was never afraid of much of anything, I realize."

"Did you play with her?" Grace innocently asked, unaware of just how painful such a simple inquiry was to the Fleetwood.

"I don't remember," Charles lied but added what spoke the truth in different words. "I was a lousy father, honey. Just awful. I got the title for playing the role in having your mother, but I didn't earn it. I became a father by her birth, not by my actions."

Grace, a lady with a heart forever loving and hopeful to those she was closest to, tried to smooth matters over with her optimism. "You couldn't have been like that." she murmured. He countered her by shaking his long, gold hood slowly.

"Truth is truth, Grace. I was what I said and worse. Someone I admire, someone I know I'll never be like, is your father. I respect him. He's who I maybe could have been had I tried harder earlier on."

. . . .

The next day Lightning commenced finishing his paving work on the road and although he wasn't enjoying the curious glances of the townsfolk, he tolerated it, thinking matters at least couldn't get worse. He was sorely disappointed when he happened to look up from the damaged macadam before him to see the 1930s Cadillac slowly approaching. He seethed when the Fleetwood pulled to a silent halt along the shoulder. "How's it going, son?" Charles inquired.

"Oh, it's goin'." McQueen muttered. Charles leaned over to peer around the clattering, bubbling Bessie.

"Things are looking sharp. That pavement looks as smooth as a girl's curves. I was beyond teed-off coming into town here and having to drive over that cracked mess with potholes everywhere and your courteous rip down the middle, zigzagging like the work of a damned lunatic. I'm a luxury machine, boy. Pure luxury."

"Uh-huh,"

The Cadillac critically stared at Lightning before deciding to resume speaking, ultimately changing the subject. "Got some other matters I wanted to talk with you about, kid. You said you don't have tinkers dam in the romance department?"

"Maybe I don't, maybe I do." McQueen grumbled. Charles wasn't fooled or put-off.

"I know _leagues_ about treating a lady so you'll get multiple dates with her. Because I want to think you'll change your immature ways, I'll be a benevolent man and share some of my knowledge with you."

"Gee thanks, Gramps."

Charles's reply to that was a single yet hearty laugh. "I'm anything but a stuffy geezer with my wife, punk! I've got more charm _and_ stamina in one lug-nut than you've got in your whole chassis. Holy hell. Alright, on with our teachings. It's pop-quiz time, boy. What's the single thing aside from the obvious that a girl finds sexy in a man?"

Lightning rolled his eyes. "Are you grading me on this?"

"Don't know yet. You have to answer it first." he allowed.

"If you're asking, I doubt I'll know. Let me guess… it has nothing to do with being a very famous racecar?"

"Far from it, son." Charles replied. "What a lady likes a lot is a man who uses his mind. He can be handsome as Adonis, but if he has no cylinders running mentally, he's no better than this busted up road. You have to know the intricacies of a woman's mind, what makes her happy, what gives her joy. Looks are big parts of it too, of course, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have gotten where I've been in life without being this handsome. Thank Ford I'm no fiddly-farty Stanley Steamer."

Lightning glared at the roadway before him, wishing so much he could get the job over and done with quickly if it weren't for the fact he'd be forced to scrape it up again to do it right.

"You got a girlfriend or not?" Charles asked, breaking him from his focus. Unwillingly the red racer looked to the swanky gold Cadillac who appraised him with his composed topaz eyes.

"No, I don't. Honest truth." he tossed out, hoping it'd satiate the old fool. The bigger car simply grinned.

"Well, isn't that fine? I've a mind to tell you there's a gal in particular you ought to see about that. She seems sweet and if you've opened your eyes at all to look past the end of your stickered hood, you can tell she's pretty."

"Not your granddaughter again." McQueen sighed.

Charles glared. "Would you quit that insanity? No, not my granddaughter! I already told you you're too damned young for her and even if you weren't, you'd have to do a lot of shaping up to be mixed with the Eldorado family. Who I'm talking about is the girl that runs the motel. If you didn't figure it out already also, her name is Sally. If you get your hood out of your spoiler you might think about securing a date with her. A man has to make the most of where he is. Hell, boy, if I were young like you and saw her, I'd be interested. If I wasn't married and saw a gal my age or a touch younger, I'd be interested. If there's anything I love, it's a pretty girl. If you're wise and do what I'm offering you, I hope to Chrysler you aren't an ass and disappoint her. Use your mind, be considerate – ALWAYS be considerate – and one more thing?"

Lightning figured there was no escaping anything now so long as this overbearing car was in town and admitted something like defeat with his answer. "Tell all,"

Charles turned to face the younger car at a better angle. His gold paint glittered blindingly in the sun. "You sure as hell better know how to kiss, and I don't mean a pathetic kiss either. I mean you ought to know how to give one that'll make her think you're not a boy, but a _man_."


	71. Chapter 71

71~

He gave the abandoned tin can a firm jerk with his left front tire, sending it sailing. The roadwork was nearly done but Lightning McQueen was already tired of it and wished in every way he was on his way to California instead of stuck here in Nowhere, USA. He glared, wondering what the racing world was thinking. They were probably terrified, wondering where he was, and he had no way to get back to them or tell them he was fine, even if kept in the company of several loonies. What if they were moving on to his competitors – his arch-nemesis Chick Hicks for example – and not even missing him? What a cruddy deal. He glared at the road. It still had to be painted, and he knew if he didn't do it _exactly_ right, he'd be forced to redo it again. It'd be Christmas by the time he finally left Radiator Springs behind!

A solid clunk resounded from where he'd tossed the can and he looked over to see the source of the noise. He had thrown it from the front of the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic yet the somewhat stiff breeze had helped it along to go as far as the worn looking garage attached to the business. The can had collided with the edge of one of the double doors, which, although very slightly, seemed to be ajar. Lightning was bored, he did not want to chance any other meetings with the townsfolk at this time (thank Ford that crazy gold Cadillac and his wife had gone back home), and did not want to get started on painting the road. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he should have known that such prying was wrong, but he did it anyway. Such was the way of the curious. Sometimes also the way of the young.

He knew he'd have no chance of running into the dark blue coupe who had sentenced him to the paving job or the one a 1938 Cadillac had said was the former's daughter. Both were at their respective jobs. There was no better time to look around. Heck, for all he knew the door may have been jammed and he wouldn't be able to open it. Slowly he rolled over and looked around to make sure no one was staring his way. All clear. He secured the door with the side of his fender and gave it a firm push. With the creak of old wood and old hinges, it slowly swung open, flooding the interior in midday sunlight. Lightning blinked. Dust motes floated and danced in the static current within the building.

He looked left, he looked right. There was too much to see, too much to absorb. Most of it was arranged neatly – likely due to not being handled in a long time – but in other places there was more of a scrambled look, the edges of papers bending over the tops of cabinets, the stack of ancient-looking books in a disarray. And of course, dust. Dust fringed the tops of most everything, although it may not have been there as long as it looked. The desert was dry, of course, and the winds common to it blew up the finest sand. Lightning tried to see everything, although he knew there was probably no chance he would. He missed some things telling and very important but he did not miss others.

The curtains that hung in the paned windows were old… hung by the care and consideration of a female although McQueen did not particularly notice that either. He noticed though what the light streaming through the parted fabric set aglitter. It too was coated with dust. Somehow or another a spare wrench had been tossed within the cup, dropped there at some distant time and never replaced back in its assigned spot. There was not just one of these shining effigies though. Two other flanked it, no longer in the orderly straightness set by Grace decades before, but in a similar enough fashion. Lightning could not help himself. He leaned over, reading the brass plate across each trophy.

 _CHAMPION – 1951_

 _CHAMPION – 1952_

 _CHAMPION – 1953_

All bore the same name preceding the word declaring glory and the long-ago year it occurred: Hudson Hornet. Lightning was baffled, struck more stunned than he'd been since coming into Radiator Springs. The old car that had sentenced him to the road-paving won not just one but _three_ Piston Cup trophies? How? _He_ was a racecar? Ten thousand questions ran through the young car's mind. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't even form words.

From behind him was a silent viewer, a black-and-white photograph in a silver frame. An image of a beautiful car no one else could have known was a shade of green like the gemstone jade. She gazed out as she'd done from that old image for forty-odd years now. The smile she'd given the photographer was honey-sweet, knowing the one who'd see the image to be her husband, the mate she never realistically hoped she'd get to make her Mrs. Hornet. That frame (and the one nearby, pairing it) were the only things in the whole room kept entirely clear of dust, the importance of what they contained ineffable.

Lightning could barely reverse out of the room quickly enough to rip back to the front of the clinic and with not a care in the world, burst through the white double doors. Hudson had moments before finished a maintenance check on the old Mercury police car and although he was a pretty collected sort, he was nonetheless startled upon the clatter of the doors being thrown open while he was reviewing old files. When he looked up he was severely annoyed to see the red car and had a mind to ask him why he wasn't painting the road but hadn't a moment to get in a single word.

"I can't believe it! You're the Hudson Hornet!" Lightning rattled, grinning huge as he spoke. He drove in and faced the old coupe who leaned back far on his rear shocks, not enjoying this confrontation and the news that came with it the slightest amount. "I just can't believe it!" McQueen repeated. "You're _the_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet. You still hold the record for the most wins in a single season! Oh, we've _got_ to talk! You won the championship THREE times – look at those trophies!"

Hudson felt this as being worse, far worse, than the day his daughter had realized the same thing about him in 1959. He shot a sharp glare to the young car. He was more than a little ticked-off at him for his snooping and couldn't think of anyone worse to find out who he had been, because he just knew this was the type who'd not keep it themselves. The kid would blast it all over. Everything was over now. The coupe straightened up and said what he'd told his wife multiple times before but his tone then had been calmer, unaffected.

" _You_ look," he snapped. "All I see is a bunch of empty cups."

His inflection was of vehemence.

. . . .

Lightning raced back to the V8 Café after being literally shown the door back at the Mechanical Clinic and came to a screeching halt on the pavement by the nearest row of pumps. He didn't think before he spoke. He didn't consider who was sitting there or their responses. "Did you know Hudson is a famous racecar?!"

They thought he was pulling a joke and he was met with either blinks of confusion or laughs. "No, no, no! It's true. He's a real racing legend – he's _the_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet."

Guido and Luigi looked at each other. Ramone looked to Flo. Flo looked to Lightning. "Honey…" she began as she pulled up to Lightning. "Are you sure you're not mistaken? I've not seem him drive more than the speed limit here… less in fact."

From out of the main Café building came Grace, attracted by the noise from the job she'd been doing with some of the business's inventory. It took only a few seconds for her to grasp what was happening and what the subject was about. How it had happened, she did not yet know but the meaning was black-and-white clear.

The town knew the secret her father had kept hidden ever since he and her mother had moved states decades before. All of a sudden she felt ill at this realization. Everyone in Radiator Springs had heard now courtesy of the blabbermouth young car who had come to town. They knew just a smidgen of her father's past, true, but a smidgen would be forced into elaboration. It was one of the worst things she feared could befall her father. Now that fear had become truth. __

Grace finished her shift for that day with the best focus she could muster, glad that the friends she had in all of her neighbors knew to not pry her for any further information about her father. She could see the questions in Flo's bright green eyes and it pained her most to not share anything with her, given how much the Cadillac had come to love and trust the ex-Motorama beauty as not only a friend but her second mother. When she assisted the last resident she came over to Flo to wish her a good evening as she did every night. "I'll tell you one day, when I can." she promised the mint-green car before giving her a farewell kiss on the side of her gleaming fender, a gesture she'd done hundreds of times before. She left her with a smile before quietly leaving, but not yet for home.

She doused her headlights upon arriving at the worn wooden doors and knocked twice as courtesy before quietly coming in. The interior of the room was darkening as the sun set yet what dusky light remained traced the curvatures in her father's frame. There was too much yet to be said that neither knew quite how to begin with. What had happened, what had been set into action by the unexpected visitor hung heavy in the air, heavy like fog, a substance no one could ever get in their grasp but horrendously real and weighty all the same.

The seafoam-green Cadillac leaned in to softly kiss the side of her father's nearest fender. The way that particular action lingered spoke plainly of the unconditional love behind it. Closing her eyes she turned to lean into his side, offering comfort and also temporarily straightening his crash-damaged frame which had slowly tilted crooked upon its axles as he'd grown older. What Mary Ellen Eldorado thought she had seen was sadly no folly, no illusion. His daughter saw this change come to pass as time went on, knowing to not ask _if_ it hurt – this she didn't doubt – but _how_ much it did. Had she done so, her father would have played it down anyway.

Grace couldn't begin to imagine how her father felt now, having the unknown that he'd kept locked away for so long brought to light not just to one individual but to the whole town. It must have been nothing short of horrifying in its own way. Hudson responded to her gesture by softly nuzzling her in return. Silence still hung in the air.

"I'm sorry, Daddy." the Cadillac murmured. The old car sighed.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Grace." he told her.

"I just feel bad," she related. "You've just been through so much, so many hard things. You don't deserve this on top of everything else."

Their eyes met, a blue that was darker to a blue that was paler. "I should have known a secret couldn't be kept forever, darling." he responded. "How I kept it this long was tempting fate, I reckon. Don't worry yourself over it."

"You're my father. It's only natural I'll care." she promised, nestling her frame fully into his, unconcerned as she always was if his side chrome trimmings scratched her paint. Love went a whole lot further than just appearances. He softly nuzzled her back in silent gratitude for her company and unflagging want to give comfort. As was custom to his nature though, he admittedly felt guilty of the times roles were reversed.

The sun had vanished by the time Grace posed her next question. "Will you tell them everything?"

He took some time to consider. "Everything, no. I may not be able to keep the whole thing quiet now, but I still am not interested in revealing it all. Especially to that punk." His tone took on a momentarily sharper edge upon thinking of the young red racer who had made this moment finally come to light.

The younger Cadillac finally parted from her father's side, knowing soon she would have to head back home. The moment her counterbalancing weight fell away from Hudson his long, blue frame once more took its crooked tilt, something that was so slight hardly anyone else could notice it yet to someone like his daughter who knew him best, the angle was blaringly obvious.

"I asked Flo for tomorrow off," she began. "I want to talk to Lightning. I won't tell him anything you wouldn't want… I just want to try to tell him some other things first. Things I hope he can take to heart and understand so when you decide to answer his inevitable questions, he'll hopefully be more considerate. I know he's a real pill sometimes." This she said with a hint of her more jovial smile.

"Thank you, Grace. You're such a kind-hearted girl. In every way I'm grateful I didn't lose out on the chance to be your father." he replied, giving her a smile in return. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

She leaned in to kiss him goodnight. "I love you with my whole heart, Daddy. You don't need to thank me."


	72. Chapter 72

72~

The seafoam-green Cadillac rested her soft-blue eyes on those of a sharper blue-green belonging to Lightning McQueen. Somehow or another arrogance didn't show nearly as strongly in his expression; Grace suspected he was still hyped over the news he had found out and possibly wasn't even thinking about sassing. She didn't know but she had to hope, fielding any stickier questions along the way.

"Lighting," she gently began. "I asked you over today because there's some things I just want to talk with you about. I have a few questions also."

He bounced around on his tires. "Oh, I've got questions too!" he retorted. She hastily headed that idea off at the pass.

"I'm sure, but I need to make my points clear first. To begin with, how did you figure out the truth with my father?"

Lightning deflated a bit at this, knowing enough that what he'd say would paint him as a snoop on top of a road-vandalizing "city boy."

"Uh," he started. Her eyes evenly watched him, her expression passive. "I saw the door open a little bit and I went over. I was bored and didn't want to hang out at the Café so I just thought I'd take a look."

"You know that wasn't right, even if the door was open." she reprimanded as if he was her child. He sighed.

"Hey, I know that, okay? I wasn't even going to go in all the way. When I looked in though, there was so much and then I saw the trophy shining and when I realized there wasn't just one, I had to see the name on it. I didn't figure it'd be your dad! I mean, I didn't put it together that he's _the_ Fabulous Hudson Hornet even though that's his name. He's FAMOUS!" the kid exclaimed, rocking around on his tires again.

Grace's smile was wan. "Lightning, I need to tell you something… it's very hard for my father to be faced with his past again, especially in a way he didn't expect. He doesn't like to talk about it much anyway but now he realizes he doesn't have much choice. When I was a little girl, I fell in love with the sport of racing. I read everything I could get my tires on. You can imagine who my favorite racer ended up being: my dad. I didn't realize this at the time though; I didn't think they were one and the same. All I thought was they looked alike. Why didn't I know the truth sooner, though? My father put it behind him. He didn't talk about it. All I knew about the crash that ended his career was from journalism and also from what he eventually told me when I made the connection during the year that changed both of our lives. I didn't live the crash. I don't know how it was for him. All I do know was that it was hard on him in many, many ways. My father wants to forget his past as much as he wants to remember it, as senseless as that sounds."

Lightning started to open his mouth to say something but chose against that. Grace continued to speak. "I won't tell you anything he wouldn't want to tell you first, in his own words, but all I can say is that there have been many hard things he's had to work through. I know it probably doesn't seem this way to you after being ruled to fix our road here, but my father is good-hearted and sweet. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful parent to have left. He's caring and considerate but he's haunted by many things. Because of this, I have to say with honesty he's the saddest car I've ever known."

"About that, what the deal with your mom? Your granddad kinda confused me." the red car offered.

"My mom died, Lightning." Grace softly answered. "A long time ago."

"Oh…" he murmured, seeming to her to be briefly reflective. "I'm sorry about that."

"Thank you," she replied. "With that thought in mind, just try to be kinder to my father. I know him well enough to say that I bet he'd warm up to you if you just don't force yourself on him. He's slow to trust, but he can eventually. Can you promise me you'll at least try?"

He considered what she'd said. "Alright," he in time answered. "I'll try to remember."

She thanked him for a second time, her gratitude genuine. Silently she hoped perhaps he had somehow turned over a new leaf, or at least the start of one.

. . . .

He wondered if he was doing the right thing. He wondered if perhaps the punk had made him lean slightly towards the crazy side. Never in a million years did he think he'd be sitting here, again, but not for something fake. This time he meant something real.

Hudson looked up from his hood to the long, red-dirt track before him. The last time he had raced was for his wife on one of their last wedding anniversaries dozens of years before. When his daughter had asked if he would ever race again, he had told her that he wasn't even sure if he had what was left anymore to try. He still didn't know. He was so indecisive he nearly wanted to turn around right then and there. Maybe he _was_ going crazy. The kid in town had dredged up his past in a way where he knew now it was never going to be hidden again. Sooner or later it'd all – or at least most of it – would be told, and told again. Until then though, he had to think of the better times. He had to think of her, the woman who had lent a better aspect to a life that been as fast-paced literally as figuratively. She had made it all worthwhile.

With a single, swift crank, his engine roared to life. It still held incredible power despite being used for town driving years on end. He knew a sound could be deceiving though, for he had lived the retired life longer now than not. He knew doing what he was about to do after this time and at his much older age could be damaging somewhere along the line, but that was neither here nor there. He had to know if he could still do it even while wondering a final time if he was indeed going crazy; if he was acting foolish.

The revving of his engine before he shot forward onto the track used long ago for weekend races was the loudest thing heard 'round Willy's Butte that day. His higher speeds hadn't been flirted with in a time that was long yet proved to be reliable still. In his mind he was once more at Thomasville, on a track Cornelia said no other could rule as well as he. The desert wind blew past as he cut through it like a bullet. The signature red-orange dust of the land he called home drifted through the air like an impenetrable miasma, beautiful in color and beautiful in the sense they were the proof of power to one who thought in many ways it had been lost to him.

He realized during this something that he hadn't expected: he felt far happier than he had fully in a long while, outside of his daughter's cherished companionship. He hadn't raced to win, not at all. As Grace had been told, he raced because it was his first love and it did precisely what he understood anew: it made him happy.

At the near end of the track was the tight curve that had sent Lightning McQueen into the cactus patch, but navigating it was no issue to Hudson if all of his skills didn't fail him. With calculated precision, he cranked his front axle from headed straight to the left, turning his now thoroughly dusty chassis broadside, in for the drift that made him famous in the long ago. He executed that turn faultlessly, without a single hitch. Back at the beginning again, he turned into the drift one final time, halting mere feet from the rope marking the start. The dust hung in the air far longer than the solo race had lasted; falling back to the earth whence it came and also upon Hudson's dulled paint as he sat there in the dissipating haze of it. He couldn't deny the fact he was winded from the ordeal, but felt no worse aside from that. He _could_ still do it.

Hudson feared he had forgotten precisely what his beloved wife's voice had sounded like after decade upon decade had passed yet as the rest of the dust settled, he recalled vividly a memory of them both together and the words she had said that were among many to never leave for good: _"_ _You weren't born to be a racecar, but you were clearly meant to be one."_

From afar, in the shadows of a saguaro cactus, Lightning McQueen had seen everything.

. . . .

The red car bearing a number 95 on his sides apprehended the old coupe, so excited he could barely contain himself. Sneakily he had tailed Hudson back to town and only after he returned home did Lightning make himself heard. "Your driving is incredible!" he exclaimed, following the indigo car into the garage. When Hudson caught his eye he fixed the young car with a steely glare that clearly meant to anyone else that they ought not to pursue the matter. Lightning, though, was unaffected. He was too amazed at what he'd learned and all he'd witnessed to stay silent. And really, who could blame him?

"Wonderful," Hudson retorted. "Now go away." The last thing he wanted was to entertain the punk.

"I mean it! You've still got it." Lightning pressed, pulling alongside him. Hudson's expression turned no friendlier.

"I'm asking you to leave," he stated, the ire evident in his tone.

"Come on, I'm a racecar; you're a… much older racecar but under the hood you and I are the same!" the kid exclaimed. That was the last straw for Hudson.

"We are _not_ the same, understand? Now get out!" he snapped, backing out of the building in hopes Lightning would get the hint after being literally "shown the door" and leave as well. That wasn't to be.

"How could a car like you quit at the top of your game?" Lightning asked, not moving out but turning to face the blue eyes of the old coupe. A silence passed that seemed like hours though was only a minute, at the most, likely much less. The mood changed as well to something heavier, something now that couldn't be altered or brushed away.

"You think I quit?" Hudson asked, the anger in his tone replaced by incredulity. He leaned over to turn on a switch, the light of it illuminating something he'd framed years before, something Grace had discovered in her youth. Something that had made her finally make the connection before she was told. As much as Hudson wanted to forget, he knew he never would. He would be reminded always of what good his career had given him but also the bad that'd never stay buried.

Lightning looked up at the faded front page of _The Daily Exhaust_. It was the 1954 edition. In that boldest sort of font that either declared bad news or good, the former was declared.

 **CRASH!  
HUDSON HORNET  
OUT FOR SEASON**

And Lightning then remembered what Grace Hornet, the daughter of the ex-champion, had said about her father's crash. "Right…" he murmured, looking at the headline and the infamous image below of a battered and barely recognizable coupe broken on the Thomasville track. It was a photo circulated through the racing world hundreds of times.

" _They_ quit on me," Hudson said. "When I finally got put together, I went back expecting a big welcome and you know what they said? 'You're history.' Moved right on to the next rookie standing in line."

The ire was gone from his voice along with the astonishment of earlier. Anyone could have seen what lay behind that cover; a defeated old car, retired before his time, losing not simply his career but what the career had given him. In his mind, he had nothing left to show from that near-dream except Grace. She was the only proof that life existed, once. The trophies meant nothing to him. What sort of cruelty was it for a beautiful and lively woman to lose her life yet for tarnished brass to remain?

His expression changed with his tone, his frame sinking low, nearly to the cracked floor. "There was a lot left in me," he quietly continued. "I never had the chance to show them. I keep that to remind me never to go back. I just never thought that that world would have found me here."

By "here" he meant not solely Radiator Springs, or even the state he now lived in. "Here" meant a multitude, the final result of everything prior that had come to pass. Lightning looked from Hudson to the paper and back to Hudson once more.

"Hey… I'm not _them_." he defended himself.

"You sure?" Hudson countered.

"Yeah! I'm not!"

"When was the last time you thought about something aside from yourself, hotrod?" the old car inquired. Lightning strove to answer but realized he couldn't. Not genuinely. Hudson subtly nodded his hood.

"That's what I thought. You name me one time, and I will take it all back."


	73. Chapter 73

73~

For Hudson, the difficulties of that day were not yet over. Lightning looked around the room and for the first time noticed the silver-framed photo of a female car whose smile was as sweet as her expression devoted. He couldn't judge what color her paint was, but in the muted tones, it seemed to have been somewhat light. It gleamed, the polish of it captured forever. Lightning asked the obvious.

"Who's she?" he offered, motioning to the image. When Hudson understood this he slowly drove back into the room, looping his long frame around and finally halting before the image. His action mirrored that of Charles Eldorado's the day McQueen had met Mary Ellen. At least though, his wife was among the living to watch over. Hudson had nothing to defend but an old photograph taken in 1955. Lightning backed away to allow the bigger car room. Hudson looked up to the black-and-white rendition of the vibrant lady who had lit up his world with far more than just her unique shade of green.

"Her name is Cornelia," he answered. Lightning looked away from the coupe to the framed image once more. He contemplated speaking but Hudson beat him to it. "She… was… my wife." he added, the past-tense being a struggle to get out.

"Grace's mom?" the younger car asked.

"None other. Cornelia was the only wife I had." Hudson replied. He sunk down on his shocks. "She bettered my life in every way. I'll never stop missing her."

"When did she die?" McQueen asked.

"1959," he answered. "We were married in 1953. Almost had the chance to be together for six years."

"What happened?" Every question the kid asked were like a knife being driven further and further into an already damaged core. Outside the sky streaked pink with the setting sun.

"She was killed," Hudson said, his tone regaining a hint of the earlier ire. "They still sit in their cell in jail. They _live_."

Lightning didn't need to ask exactly who "they" were other than whoever committed the deed against Cornelia. He chose a different tactic. "So," he began, having a difficult time grasping the situation, "You're saying you've been single since _1959_ and never got married again? That's been _ages_."

Hudson leveled his striking blue eyes on the young car. "You know what dedication is, hotrod? It's being true to someone who made your life far more wonderful than it could have been without their presence. Cornelia was someone I loved more than I can say. Every anniversary of our marriage that passed made me love her even more. I'll never replace her with another. She was everything to me."

Lightning wisely decided not to counter this subject any further with the old car.

"One day," the old car began, his tone losing it sharp edge, becoming softer. "One day, maybe you'll have the chance to know what love like that is like."

It was only later he realized that set of words was strangely near-identical to what he'd told his daughter so many times before, a hope for something she no longer thought existed. That wasn't the only thing he thought of though. Into the later hours, Hudson wondered _why_ exactly he had even humored the delinquent with the darker points of his past, and why he had answered his inquiries on Cornelia. Why didn't he just ask him to leave?

It was long past sunset when Lightning finally left and Hudson sat silently within the empty room, visited only by his varied thoughts. He looked up to the silver-framed portrait of Cornelia as he had hundreds of times before. Her eternal youth shone through, the yellow glow of the nearest lamp illumining that slice of the past. "After all that happened today, darling, I'm either starting to go crazy, or…" The word hung in the air, he considering anew what he was about to say. "Or… for some reason, I may be learning to trust him."

He'd never be able to know what she'd say to that, what her input could be. As was the cruel fate of its forever status, a printed piece of paper was silent. Silent like the death that had claimed its portrayed.

. . . .

On her next day off, Hudson asked his daughter if she was willing to revisit their old "Sunday drives" to which she was more than happy to accept. Although the coupe had stayed solitary even more since McQueen crash landed (literally) into town, he still wasn't against the idea of getting away, if just for a little while. She met up with him, smiling brightly at the idea of getting away for a spell herself. "It's been too long since we've done this!" she said after greetings. "Is there an occasion of some sort?"

Hudson shook his hood. "Do I need an occasion to take a drive with my girl?" he asked with his average good humor. When put that way Grace laughed.

"I guess not. Any special place we're going in particular?" she inquired.

"I was rather hoping you wouldn't mind seeing the waterfall again." he answered. Her eyes shone with joy but some sort of concern as well.

"That's a little farther than our regular drives. You don't mind?"

"I may be getting old but I'm not doddering yet, darling!" he jested.

The drive to the ethereally beautiful falls took just a little over an hour and Grace always was amazed by how the desert landscape of where home was gave way to the spruce trees. The waterfall never failed to stun when it appeared from behind the curve. Despite the splash and crash of it as it made its tumble over the edge, there was also some sort of calm that descended upon being in its company. The Cadillac sighed happily as she drew to a stop beside her father at the lookout. "It's just so beautiful here. I should make the effort to come here more often." she murmured. "Thank you for asking me to come with you, Daddy."

"No need for thanks, it's my pleasure Grace." he reassured her. A comfortable silence fell between the pair before the younger chose to speak.

"You told him, didn't you?" she began, not having to mention the red racer's name for her father to understand that and the situation she referred to.

"I did," he answered. "I told him as much as I wanted to at that time, I suppose."

"How did he take it? I hope he was polite to you. When I had him over that day, I told him he'd better be nice to you. I didn't add 'or else,' but he probably knew it was in my mind!" she said with a little laugh.

"He was alright; better than I guess I thought he'd be. I don't look forward to having to explain to the town, but sooner than later I'll need to."

"Don't think of that as something bad. Why, they'll most likely be amazed. You were famous once and, to me, you still are. It's just things changed and I guess folks change also with what they choose to pay attention to. You're still better than any young racer." she said with surety. Hudson shook his hood.

"That sounds like something your mother would say. In honesty though, I'm not better than any younger racer."

Grace was perplexed. "What do you mean by that, Daddy?" He offered her a light smile.

"My speed means nothing anymore. I'm far slower than any racer from at least the past twenty years, if not longer. I couldn't win a race now even if I was interested." he told her. The Cadillac saw him at that moment as her father, of course, but also the champion he had been. How hard it must have been for him to admit what he had just said. He hadn't raced to win but it clearly made him happy and Grace knew without a doubt from all of the old racing magazines she had read in the past that a car known as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet was proud of his abilities and his faultless skills.

She shook the mist-water from her hood. "I guess you have the point when it comes to logic, but I'd rather not have to think about that. The fact you fearlessly chose to marry my mother despite what you said Granddad felt at the time; the fact you went back to Thomasville to face the ghosts; the fact you raised me without any help and stayed dedicated to Mama throughout all will always make you a champion to me, Daddy. Keeping that title isn't marked just by scores and conquests over a finish line. It isn't marked by speed. I like to think it's marked by character. Lightning can't wear that honor right until he can get past winning. When he can look beyond his hood to what really matters in life _then_ he will be a champion. If he plays his cards right, he can learn all of that from you." She smiled with this.

The old coupe gave his beloved daughter a nuzzle. "I'm glad you think that, darling. Thank you."

She returned the affection to him. "If he straightens up, I think he could learn a lot from you. I even think he could be good for you, a piece of company."

"He has places to go and things to do, Grace." he said, always the pragmatist.

"We don't know for sure yet. I have a feeling he could change. If he gets his ego out of the way, I bet he could be a decent kid."

"That's a tall order for many of the young. I was that way myself in some respects." he told her.

"Mama never mentioned anything like that."

His smile this time was broader. "Think of my racing name, darling. 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet.' To even allow that to be painted on me, I had to have the mind of a hotshot once."

. . . .

Flo was the first one Grace told her father's story to. He knew he couldn't escape the town knowing and although he realized he'd be slow on it himself, his daughter he trusted to tell the one other individual _she_ had trusted the most after losing her mother. When work was over at the V8 Café, the Cadillac assisted Flo clean up as she always did on her late days, and when the last bit of neighborly conversing with lingering townsfolk ceased, she parked next to the mint-green ex-Motorama car, under the neon's glow.

"Flo, there's something I want to talk to you about tonight, if it's not too late." Grace began. Flo's bright green eyes lingered on her companion in the way that had always stayed loving.

"Baby girl, no time is too late for me to have a talk with you. You go on and say whatever you want to."

Grace looked at the lights of the V8, the brightest that remained in her fallen town. Across the street, the lights for the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic were no longer lit. She couldn't remember when her father had stopped turning on the switch. It had been a while. She turned back to Flo.

"What you've heard about my father from Lightning… it's true." she said. "Daddy was a famous racecar."

Flo's expression was of shock. "Sugar, I had no idea that was true. I hope that doesn't seem inconsiderate of either of you, but I just thought maybe that boy was wrong when he said that. That he got confused over something."

Grace understood. "No, it's not fiction. It's fact."

"If you don't mind my asking, when was the last time he had that career?" Flo inquired. "I can't think of it being any time since he's been here."

"It hasn't been." the younger car said. "The last time was before I was born, in 1954."

"That's been a long time," she observed. "What made him stop?"

Grace knew this was coming and expected it. "In '54 he was in a very bad crash. When I think of what I've read and what I saw, I don't know how it didn't kill him." Her voice was soft.

Flo gently nudged her in affection the Cadillac welcomed. "Baby girl, I never could have guessed. I'm sorry for him. That must've been so terrifying." she said. "I can see now why what happened to your mama affected him even worse."

Grace nodded. "Do you know why my daddy chose to become the town's doctor, Flo?" she asked. The show car admitted she hadn't much idea aside from maybe just a general want to be helpful.

"That is part of it," the Cadillac acknowledged. "But not all of it. I never saw it all myself until he told me on the trip home from Thomasville. When he suffered his crash, it broke him in terrible ways. His hood was smashed in; his trunk bent nearly in two and big dents and breaks everywhere. Even both of his axles were broken but… I'd rather let him tell you that if he wants to."

Flo's green eyes registered wordless shock. She never could have guessed one of the highest regarded residents of her town had been through so much. In a friendly sort of way, she had always cared for him but learning this added an element of pity to her compassionate ways as well.

"Throughout his repairs my mother stood by him, I learned. He spent days stranded before the proper repairs would grant his freedom. She visited him on every weekend she could, keeping him company. When he left fixed up to near pre-crash condition, he was grateful for it. When he learned the circuit no longer wanted him, he vowed to pay back to others what had been given to him and learning there was a chance to be the town's doctor here gave him that chance. Each time he was able to turn somebody's bad luck around and see them fixed up, he said it was one of the best feelings he could know. He felt glad he could help someone in the way someone had once helped him. He still feels that way, to a point, but so much of it was lost in 1959. He had done everything he knew for folks in the past but suddenly…." Grace trailed off, remembering the day when she got the worst news of her life. "Suddenly, he wasn't faced with a stranger or even a neighbor. He was faced with my mother; his dearest companion. He said that he knew the moment he saw her that there was nothing he could do to save her and… it was the failure he said…"

The Cadillac's voice halted, emotion still choking her at revisiting that day and the further impact of it when her father had told her what she now told to Flo. The Motorama car leaned into Grace's side in a loving, comforting gesture. Grace fell heavily into the touch. "You don't have to say anymore, baby. I see it all now and understand every word. It all makes sense to me. The fact your father wanted to repay what had been given to him doesn't surprise me now I hear it. He's been a kind, caring fellow ever since I knew him when he and your mama first came here. It makes sense he'd want to return that. Losing her broke both of your hearts I know but it was no fault of his, no failure."

"I know," Grace said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He just feels responsible though in ways I never fully understood when I was younger."

"It's no one's fault, honey." Flo assured. "Tell me, what was it like for you to read about him in those magazines you used to collect?"

The younger car straightened slightly, rising to the different subject. "It was amazing. Even before I knew it was him, I was awestruck. No other car could race like him."

"And you said that world didn't want him after what happened?"

"It didn't. By then, things had already changed. My father was… outdated. He spent his whole life up till then passing his competitors. When he was laid up, those same contenders passed him by instead. Things weren't the same when he returned. They didn't want him back."

Flo understood now the reasoning she and the others hadn't heard of this news till now. "Honey," she began. "Would it be wrong for me to guess that the reason he never let on about this part of his life was because he wanted to forget?"

Grace nodded, the motion slight. "No, it's not wrong at all. He wanted to forget and tried so hard to but…"

"There's no forgetting entirely."

"No, there isn't."

"What was it like for you when you learned that car you admired was your father, Grace?" the show car inquired. Grace recalled that day when she was still a girl, before the earth-shattering death of her mother made her turn overnight into a woman.

"I was even more awestruck. My favorite car wasn't some distant individual I'd never know beyond print. There he was, right there. He had been the greatest champion of his time. He's the greatest champion of that world still, in my mind. It may sound childish to say this, but for all he's been through and all he's known – all of the strength he's had – he's not just my daddy. He's my hero."


	74. Chapter 74

74~

Flo met the cerulean-blue eyes of the coupe, the solitary visitor at the V8 Café at its last hour before being considered closed. Grace was within the main building of the Café, straightening up things for the next day's work.

"Your sweet girl told me a li'l of your earlier years. I never could've guessed that or what happened to end it all. I'm sure sorry, honey." the show car said. "Seems to me you got dealt an especially bad hand in life and I sho' wish it could be changed."

The coupe knew sooner than later his past would be brought up by his neighbors although was grateful the first one to venture out with it was Flo. From the first time they'd met, Hudson saw what a kind and considerate woman the ex-Motorama car was and the trust and love his daughter had for her simply reinforced this.

"I forget those years the best I can." he replied. Her green gaze knew though.

"Yet there is no forgetting entirely." she finished. "When Grace said that, I had a feeling of how you must've gone about dealing with it, but no matter how hard you can try to forget something, bury it and move on, somethin' will always resurface it again. I think that's what we'd all do. I know I'd want to stop thinking about something like that, too."

He silently nodded. She looked upon him with her average measure of kindness she showed everyone but also the sort of sympathy she reserved solely for him. "Grace told me that after your crash, when you were getting repaired, Cornelia visited you most ev'ry weekend."

"That's true," Hudson said. "She did. With something that bad happening not so long after we were married, I have to say I feared the worst. I wouldn't have blamed her, though."

"You meaning you figured the coping would be so rough, she couldn't bear it? That she'd leave?" Flo asked.

"Pretty much,"

"Cornelia loved you in a way I admit I've never seen in my customers over the years. No matter how tough all that was, she prob'ly used the hard parts of it to strengthen your union instead. I don't think any situation would be surpassing her want to be with you, Hudson. You two had a bond to one another too strong to let anything break it."

Silence fell, filled between with quiet remembrance. Grace had finished her tidying but stayed in the background so as to not disturb what was taking place. Hudson met Flo's eyes again.

"Do you remember how I told you something years ago about how Cornelia and I met at a race?"

"Now that you mention it, I sure do recall." she said, her voice soft.

Overhead the pair, the last vestiges of darker cobalt-blue had vanished from the sky, overlaying it with deep, dark black. The stars twinkled brightly, but none shimmered as beautifully as those in the belt of the _Via Lactea_ ; the Milky Way. The haze of the galaxy commandeered the heavens with supreme reign. From below, Grace watched. She listened.

"We did meet at a race," Hudson said. "It just wasn't in the way you likely thought. She was the spectator. I was the racecar."

Flo's beautifully green eyes registered interest. "Is that so?" she asked. "Well, I'd say that's even luckier."

"I learned after we met that she had enjoyed the racing scene for a long time, even though her father didn't agree with it. I was her favorite racer… had been from the start. When she was a girl, she told me her fondest dream was to one day become Mrs. Hornet."

"And true to your kindness, you made that come true for her." Flo replied.

"I didn't know that at the time, though." he pointed out.

"Had you known though?"

"I would've done most anything for her." he said with a sad sort of smile that hinted at a time that same phrase would have been told but with an expression brighter. Flo considered what he'd said.

"When she was young, Cornelia sounded an awful lot like your girl. Here Grace got that interest and her favorite racecar ended up being you also, before she even knew who you were aside from just being her daddy. Her mama must've found that amazing." Flo observed. Hudson nodded in confirmation although the light in his eyes spoke of other things.

"Cornelia wanted to tell Grace about how much the same she had been. She wanted to share the memories she had. My own unwillingness to face my past stopped her from that though. I kept putting it off and putting it off, even when I knew better. I should've told Grace about who I had been at the very first time she showed interest, but I didn't. I put it off. Cornelia left to go see her parents; to let them know in that visit how she was going to become a mother again while I sat here and figured when she came back, _that_ would be when I'd tell Grace everything. That was possibly the most foolish thing I've ever done. On Cornelia's last day, she told Grace some of her memories, but not nearly as much as she wanted to. I regret that and I don't think I'll ever stop regretting it."

Flo's expression was soft and the definition of caring. She leaned in a little closer to him. "I don't think any one of us can live without having regrets, honey. Having regrets means we've lived and realized we aren't perfect. Sometimes," she began before stopping to consider anew what she'd say. "Sometimes, I admit I regret bein' who I once was."

"Being a show car?" he asked. She nodded her mint-green hood.

"Exactly that, honey. Being a show car isn't all it's cracked up to be. I realized that before long. Ev'ryone here knows I was one and whether or not they care doesn't much matter to me. I guess you could say I was more or less the 'head girl' of the revue. Why? You can blame them tailfins of mine. No one had sky-high ones like mine. That put me at the top and always in those spotlights. It was fun for awhile. Until it wasn't."

He said nothing to prompt her but his silent attention solely for her told more than words could have anyway. Flo sighed. "There's so many ways a woman can be looked at if guys consider her pretty. Some can look at her with some simple sort of appreciation. Others look at her as if she was made especially for their eyes and not in a good way either. Being a man, you prob'ly don't really understand that entirely, but… it's one thing when a guy can just politely admire a lady. It's a whole other matter when they trace her every line and curve with eyes that just desire, thinkin' thoughts that should only be kept for real relationships. I had things proposed to me by those kinds of fools that just made me so mad. I wasn't that kind of girl. They saw the way I looked though and just assumed I was. Some still think I'm am, I suppose, because I've heard more than I wanted to from some of the customers I've had come in here since opening the Café years and years ago. Thank goodness there're still more men than not that have some respectability, though. You're one of 'em, Hudson. Always considerate and with the best manners. Something tells me that if you saw someone looking at your Cornelia the way some of those fellas looked at me, you'd not be thrilled about it; rightly as you should think also."

"I wouldn't be, same as if anyone looked at Grace that way. I guess I never really thought about how your earlier career must have been, but I can understand why you regret it in its own ways." he replied. She nodded.

"As time went on, I knew I'd be leaving the group eventually, it was just a matter of time. I wanted to amount to something better, with more purpose, than just some pretty piece to stare at. I wanted to move off to a different role, like finding someone nice to marry and to also have a little one, or two. I've always loved children and was more than ready to trade in my title of 'showgirl' for 'mother' when I did finally quit that scene.

"It's no new story about how things ended up going. I found the sort of love I wanted with Ramone, but children of my own just never ended up being in the works. When I realized that, it darn well broke my heart. But then, your little girl came along and set it all right, better than it had started off bein'."

"Grace loves you more than anyone else she's known outside of her mother. I'm indebted to you being so much to her." Hudson replied. The mint-green car shook her hood to banish that sort of belief.

"Honey, there's no reason to be indebted because you owe me nothing. I prob'ly owe you instead for rambling on with my near whole life story!" she replied with her warm laughter.

"You don't owe me anything either," he said, returning her faultless good spirits with the sort of smile he'd worn 40+ years before on the newspapers that heralded his racing triumphs.

"Then we're even," Flo offered, grinning in turn.

"I reckon so." he agreed. Briefly she turned serious once more.

"Any of us who are honest with ourselves can say we have regrets, honey. They vary in how serious they are, but we all have them. You know one of mine, Ramone has his… we're not immune to it if we live. I can understand how sorry you must be for how things went back then, but realize something. We were all a lot younger then, and when we're young we do the things we think are good for us, good for others, best in the whole of the matter. I got involved with something that was more fun to hear of than to actually live out. You did what you thought was best for your family. If there's one thing I know for certain about you, Hudson, it's that you didn't keep such news from her when she was curious to be spiteful. You did it because, somewhere deep down, you figured telling Grace everything would be too much for her to handle. No matter her age, learning her daddy could've been nearly killed in bad crash is terrifying."

He sighed and nodded in affirmation. "I did think it was best to not tell her for many of those reasons."

"If you don't mind my asking… how did you crash? Did someone hit you?" she hesitantly inquired.

"I don't mind, and no. My engine stalled when I went into a turn and I was going much too fast to correct anything. I was going faster than usual around a turn. It was the first time Cornelia wasn't just a spectator watching the race, instead she was my wife. Without even realizing it, I may have shown off." he said. His eyes showed irony. "The ways of the young, right?"

"Your engine is fixed now though, of course." she said, more than asked. He surprised her by shaking his dark blue hood. "No?"

"They never figured out what went wrong, as I expected. My family since far back has been affected by engine mishaps and also failure. Age doesn't make it any better, of course. All I should do is town driving at this point. As much as I don't like saying it, it's best I never got to have any other children. Grace's engine is fine, but that luck may have not lasted."

Flo's eyes went a fraction wider. "Oh, honey, don't say that."

"It's the truth, though. The longer I've been a doctor the more I've understood how things could have gone. It's best other children were spared, I suppose."

She met his gaze, those handsome blue eyes permanently striated by varied sorts of sadness. "Always one to put others' before yourself." she murmured, shaking her hood in wonderment. "You're too sweet of a fella."

What she didn't see nor did Hudson expect was for Grace to pull out from the main Café building and instead of exiting to go home as he had assumed, she curved around and pulled up next to her father. Flo was shocked to see her. "Why, baby girl, I thought you went home long ago!" The seafoam-green Cadillac smiled gently.

"There's no need for me to go home and stew when I can have the company of the two cars I have in my life that I love most." she pointed out. "Although, I was planning on going home _now_. I just didn't want to leave without saying something."

"Well, don't let us stop you, baby." Flo said. "Thanks as always for your help and most of all your company. You light up my every day, Gracie."

The Cadillac smiled at being called the nickname of her youth. "You're wonderful to spend time with." she replied and then gave the show car her usual kiss on the side of her nearest fender. She then turned to her father, preceding the same affection with a long and gently loving nuzzle along the side of his right front fender. She had heard all he had said, of regrets she knew and of his sadly courageous words regarding her lost siblings. No other words could say enough for that so she left it at the most simple yet most powerful. "I love you, Daddy." she murmured, giving him a kiss. He returned the gesture, replying the heartfelt riposte to that. Flo looked up, the show of endless love between father and daughter being so sweet and so pure she nearly felt like an intruder to witness it.

"I'll see you both tomorrow," Grace said as a farewell. "Hope you have a good night."

Although the town was harmless in means of traffic and although Grace lived not far at all, Hudson's experiences had lead him to say what could be perceived by anyone else to be purely crazy in such a matter. "Have a safe drive home, darling."

"I will, Daddy." she softly promised. "I will."

The older pair watched the glow of her tail lights until they disappeared before turning to one another once more. "Well, I suppose I'll be following her example. It is late." Hudson said. Flo casually shrugged.

"Late, but a nice night all the same. If there's anything I enjoy it's spending time with friends."

"Ramone will be wondering about you," he pointed out. She laughed.

"I doubt it! It's not the first time I've stayed over way past closin' time and it won't be the last. Anyhow, he got himself a new paint catalogue. He'll have his hood in that for all sorts of hours. You know how he is 'bout his paints. I actually wanted to ask you one more li'l thing before saying goodnight."

"Go ahead," he encouraged.

"How're things between you and the boy? I know he had a bit of a mouth on him when he first got here although I heard wind that Grace gave him a talking to at a couple points."

Hudson didn't have to ask to know she meant the rookie, Lightning. He shrugged in turn. "He's better than he was, I guess. He seemed a little different once he figured out who I was."

Flo nodded, understanding. "He is a tough customer, but where he stands in life goes back to what we were talking about earlier. Lightning is young and thinks he knows all. He has his hood mixed up in confusion right now of what's important in life in the long run." She smiled. "The ways of the young." she said, repeating his earlier words. "He probably doesn't think it and he sho' won't admit it, but he's lost. He needs someone to show him the way. Someone that knows more than just racing. Someone who knows what matters in life most, even though it's all mixed with some regrets. You're that someone, Hudson. He needs you and I think you may even need him. You were lost once too."

"Sometimes I still wonder if I am," he replied, but she saw the humor behind it. She smiled.

"If you ever forget, just come to me. You're in Carburetor County." she laughed. "You have yourself a nice night, honey. I won't keep you any longer." With that said, she leaned over, brushing a friendly kiss on the side of his fender. His smile to her was gentle when she leaned back.

"Thank you for everything, Flo. You're a remarkable lady and friend." he said.

"Even if I sit out here keeping you for two hours with my rambling?" she asked, grinning.

"Even if," he assured.


	75. Chapter 75

75~

Oddly enough, when the paving and painting of Radiator Springs' main street was completed, Lightning became more obsessed over conquering the sharp turn on the dirt track that had landed him in the cactus patch than whining about needing to get back to California. Of course, that desire wasn't gone at all, but it had taken second place for the time being. The black-and-white Mercury supervised the kid with his strict blue-grey gaze, likely hearing far more griping than he wanted to.

Dusty and still far from figuring out the secret to making a clear turn on the track, the red racer drove back into town. He found himself pleased to see the baby-blue Porsche, Sally, under the canopy at the V8. Although he hated to say he was heeding the words of the menacing Charles Eldorado, he had to agree that the motel's proprietress was the nice combo of pretty _and_ cute. When he joined her, the two shared small talk for a spell until she asked with a grin, "You interested in taking a drive?"

"A drive?" he asked, baffled. Was she actually proposing they go… _out_?

"Yeah, a drive. Don't you a big city racecars every do that?" she asked, smiling. He stumbled over his words but somehow eventually made it known that he accepted.

Sally knew of the waterfall and had seen it at prior times although like those born before her, was still in awe of the spectacle when it emerged from beyond the bend. Lightning gaped, an expression that seemed to stay all the way to the scenic turnout. "Wow…" he murmured. Together they quietly watched the cascading falls, a sight seen a time before by a married pair that treasured each other over all, a man whole before he was broken. A man who later shared the wonder with his daughter, the remainder of that earlier bliss before it was shattered by tragedy.

"How did you end up here?" Lighting asked. Sally looked over to him.

"I came from another place. Another life I just wanted to leave behind. When I decided to leave I just headed out to nowhere in particular, driving and driving until I hoped I'd find what I was looking for." she began.

"Did you find it?" he asked. She smiled.

"I broke down on the side of the road first. In Carburetor County. Some tow truck named Mater helped me. He brought me here. Hudson set me right again."

"Why did you leave?" the rookie racer asked.

"I fell in love," she said, as if such as that was obvious to any.

"Oh. With who?" Lightning asked, not expecting this. Sally laughed softly.

"Not _who_ , silly. I fell in love with _this_ , this beauty. All of these wonders. Here I found what I didn't even know I needed: a place to breathe and feel free from the hustle of what I knew."

"And you actually feel… satisfied… with this?" he pressed. She met his eyes.

"More than you yet know, Stickers."

*****

The fair weather of earlier erupted by mid-afternoon into grey clouds and ultimately a deluge of rain. The monsoons were back in full force, drenching the desert with the life-giving waters that would make the brittle greenery burst forth renewed once more. However much Hudson may have liked the rain before had been stripped away after his wife's death, caused in part by those very sky-falling waters. There had been no work that day (no shock to any); his time spent at home, accompanied by the sounds of the rain pouring off the roof and at the wind's directing, smacking into the windows. The electricity flickered once but had not yet failed.

His attention to the most recent edition of _The Daily Exhaust_ was not the most dedicated anyway so it was intrigue rather than annoyance that met the polite knock sounding at the doors before his daughter pulled in. "I'm sopping wet!" she laughed as she quickly shoved the doors shut with her rear bumper. Hudson was always glad of her company, expected or not.

"Watch out, girl. You're going to get the fine rug wet." he teased. Nonesuch existed, of course.

"I'll get you a new one," she jested in turn, giving him a kiss. Only a few drops of water glinted on his paint, proving he'd luckily evaded the worst of the storm. "How'd your day go, Daddy?"

"As usual," he answered, setting the paper aside. "No one needed anything. What about your day, darling?"

"Average, aside from Guido and Luigi having some spat. I don't know what it was about, being in Italian. They left happy, so I guess it wasn't too bad." She shrugged. "Anyhow, I came over because I wanted to talk with you about something."

"Go on, Grace." he prompted. She shook a little puddle off her hood before beginning.

"Did you see Lightning earlier?"

"I didn't."

"Well, he was out at the track at Willy's Butte again. He came back dustier than dusty and lamenting about how he can't figure out the secret to making that turn that tossed him into the cactus. Do you know how to make that turn, Daddy?"

A small, knowing smile curved Hudson's gleaming bumper. "I do," he permitted. Although the varied pains racing caused were irrefutable, Grace found she never tired of the small spark that always filled her father's eyes upon remembering the life he had had when things were at their halcyon years.

"I have an idea," she said to that, leaning over in a conspiratorial fashion. "Why don't _you_ teach Lightning?"

"I couldn't do that." he immediately answered, saying such before even thinking it all over first.

"Why not, Daddy?" the Cadillac tenderly asked. To this, he hadn't a swift reply. Outside the wind changed directions, hammering the rain into the east-facing window. Grace did not press her point, trusting when her father saw words fit, he'd say them.

"I couldn't do that because he wouldn't listen, Grace." the old car eventually replied, his tone weary.

"The ways of the young?" she offered, repeating what he and Flo had spoken of at their evening in the V8's abandoned lot. Hudson nodded his indigo hood.

"The ways of the young." he agreed.

"But, not _all_ of the young. I was never that way." she countered with a smile.

"You weren't." he agreed. "But, you're special in many ways, that just being one of them. Many of the young aren't interested in listening to something an old fuddy-duddy has to say."

Grace gave him a playfully gentle shove. "Now you're just messing with me. You are not a 'fuddy-duddy.'"

"You sure?" he retorted but she saw all too clearly the humor in his expression.

"I'd know whether or not my daddy is a fuddy-duddy." she laughed before turning serious once more. "Lightning could learn a lot from you, about a lot of things. Of course the first thing would be racing. No car will ever be able to race like you. You know things he only wishes he could be privy to. You could teach him though and he _could_ learn."

The old car sighed. "Grace, I just don't know."

"Okay," she allowed. "I'll try to convince you then. Racing meant so much to you. Even before you told me, I knew all that from those magazines I used to read as a girl. The way you looked in those photos just showed such pride. How would it make you feel to teach him a skill that'll stay with him his whole life – that he must thank _you_ for that additional knowledge?"

He gave her a gentle smile. "I don't do something to be thanked, darling. I don't need and I do not _want_ someone to be beholden to me."

She faked exasperation. "Okay, alright. Let's cut the whole racing thing out of the picture. You could teach him plenty of other things."

"Such as?" he offered. She saw the doubtful light in his azure blue eyes. She smiled softly in turn.

"Such as how to be a better individual and that there's a big world out there aside from racing." she began until a crack of thunder silenced her words. "A world full of realities that aren't always pretty but are there all the same. Realities that regard something other than one's self all the time." she finished as the sound faded to a quiet rolling.

"I doubt he'd want to hear any of that." her father rationalized.

"But you don't know." she pressed. "I really think he's a good kid deep down, Daddy."

After what Hudson had been through it was given he was standoffish in some ways to many, but if there was any one individual's conviction he trusted, it had to be his daughter's, no matter how he wanted to see things. She, like her mother, had a deeply hopeful heart.

"Well…" he faltered. Grace grinned at him.

"Don't make me go back on what I said and call you a fuddy-duddy, Daddy." she warned. That did it.

"Oh, alright." he muttered, feigning displeasure.

"Do it for me," she begged. He hadn't been able to say no to that request before.

"We'll see," he finally permitted. She grinned. That was better than nothing.

. . . .

Hudson had still been irresolute on the whole matter of keeping company with the kid, but found there would be a sooner meeting with him than planned due to one particular matter everyone in town thought he would know best.

Lightning had lingered around in the town longer than anyone expected after the road's completion, and although maybe some others thought of it, Flo was the most certain that the reason he was hanging around was because of his newfound crush on the motel's proprietress. She could see the budding affections between those two and figured at some point, _something_ was going to be up.

"I'm serious!" the red racer emphasized to the rusted Mater one afternoon when he finally decided to make known his predicament.

"Well, I'm serious too!" he countered, grinning. "Tractor tippin' is some pretty dandy entertainment and I doubt Miss Sally's ever seen it before."

"And I doubt she'd ever want to see it," Lightning muttered under his breath. The tow truck was unaffected.

"Y'know, I took Doreen tractor tippin' way back and she liked it."

The red car had no idea who Doreen was and although some particle of him was curious, he wasn't _that_ curious to hear the whole story at that moment. "Okay, so she liked it but I don't think Sally will, okay? I think she'd like something else."

"Hmm, okay." Mater considered, squinching up his face in exaggerated deep thought. His grin then turned on as if cued by a switch. "Wait a minute! I got an idea, buddy! Why don't you go ask Hudson what _he_ thinks Miss Sally would like?"

Lightning audibly groaned. "Mater, he was married for only five years!" The tow truck chuckled.

"Welllll, that's a step further than where you's at right now."

The younger car inwardly burned at this true point. "Okay, okay! So you think he'll know something."

"I sure do, buddy. He loved Miss Cornelia tons and she sure never seemed unhappy. He must've done one or two somethin's right for that, y'know."

Lightning saw his point whether he wanted to or not. "Alright, I'll ask him."

"There ya go, buddy!"

. . . .

Lightning decided to petition the help of the town's judge and doctor one afternoon after he'd hung out for awhile at the V8. He had no idea what to expect of this all but sucked it up and knocked on the doors of the Ornament Valley office twice. What he really wanted to natter about with the old car was racing, not love advice. It felt downright embarrassing on his part and he thought to just leave before being faced by the blue Hornet and having all of those possibilities vanquished. The old car looked over him silently, the varied questions and suspicious wonderings flickering in his striking eyes. "Yes…?" he eventually allowed. Inwardly he assumed the kid was there to finagle racing advice from him which, although he had more or less promised his daughter he wouldn't be overly stubborn over, he wasn't ready for it at that moment all the same.

The red racer shuffled his front tire, feeling more stupid by the moment at the words that'd fall from his mouth. "Hey look," he began after a huge sigh. "I need some help."

Hudson turned slightly to better see the kid against the glaring sun, which inadvertently set alight the aged and scratched wedding band rimming his left front wheel. Seeing it seemed to needle Lightning to continue what he didn't want to be talking about in the first place. "Mater told me to ask you."

"Ask me what?" he said. Lightning took a deep breath.

"I'm trying to figure out something nice to do for Sally so Mater said you'd know. What's a nice thing to do for a girl?" he finished. There, he'd said it. The old car looked at him for awhile without saying anything, his expression practically the same from earlier, clouded with suspicions. This wasn't at all what he was expecting to hear.

"Do you have any ideas?" Lightning wheedled, figuring he may as well get it all over and done with now. The indigo car answered with a shallow nod.

"I know what I used to do," he said.

"What?"

Hudson's gaze turned momentarily strict. "It's not science, hotrod. What does a woman appreciate more than anything else? What do any of us appreciate?" he asked. "Being treated with kindness and consideration. Think before you speak. If you say something nice to her, make sure you mean it. If you have her in your life, be grateful for whatever moments you have because you'll never know if they'll end one day. If she asks you to promise her something, stick with it. If _you_ promise her something, stick with that too."

Lightning started to open his mouth but again shut it. He didn't have anything to add, really. "The single nicest thing to do for someone you care about or could one day love is really just one thing: Be the best you can be." Hudson went on. "And if you do find yourself married to a woman who makes your life better than you ever realized it could be, don't take it for granted. Ever."

The young car had expected this response as little as Hudson had expected the question. He didn't know quite what to say to it. It was deeper than he'd planned. "So, um…" he finally replied. "About dates? Is there any special place I should take her? Anything I should do?"

"Have you taken her to the waterfall?" he asked.

"She took me. I didn't know about it yet."

"Well, now that you do, you can take her first. You don't have to take her somewhere in particular though to show your care. A pretty place is just a pretty place unless you show consideration all the time, not just there."

Lightning slowly nodded. Hudson's attitude took a turn towards a different light. The palest smile shone across his chrome bumper. "The times have changed a lot since I was young like you, hotrod. If what's between you and her ever get serious – at a point where you know there'll be a lot more to it – I'd say one of the nicest things to give a girl at some point would be something that just isn't in fashion for any car that's young these days."

"Like what?" the rookie asked.

"A hood ornament, plated gold." the old car told the younger, the inflection of sorrow and regret visible in those words even to a kid tagged as a "punk."


	76. Chapter 76

76~

Hudson decided to try to befriend Lightning McQueen under the grounds of what he knew was best and what was or would be desired by the two he valued most. His innate response to the rookie racer was to stay as far away from him as possible but that wouldn't be what Grace would agree to. It would not be what Cornelia would agree to either. The two of them had an outlook that made them see the best in others and to bring it out via their behavior. The viewpoint Hudson was taking he knew was nothing but stubborn, making him far more of a fuddy-duddy than he was interested in letting on. Grace had an idea the kid was good. Flo did. There was no telling how many others thought something similar. For the old car, two against one was already more than enough.

Under this knowing of what was right, he did what he least wanted to do, teaching the young racer how to successfully execute the tight turn on Willy's Butte. His advice of "turn right to go left" was met by Lightning with massive bafflement and the younger car accused the older of being "crazy" although he did have the sense to make this claim in private. He knew well enough by now such would likely make its way back to Hudson's daughter and she hadn't any qualms about giving him a sound dressing-down, the sort that deep down – at some shadowed place of the mind – created the hints of guilt. If Hudson was anything, he was patient, and at the times the rookie car came to him and lamented about how he didn't understand any theories he had been taught, the indigo car explained them anew in the best fashions he knew of. If he felt at any of these points that the kid was trying to make him look like a fool, he ignored whatever ire this brought, remaining continually tolerant.

"Every time I try to make that turn, I land in the bushes! Turn right to go left about made one of those huge cactus fall on me!" Lightning complained to Hudson another afternoon after practicing again and again at Willy's Butte. Dust bedimmed the red of his paint, flecked here and there atop his hood by particles from the scrubby bushes. He looked like he'd just emerged from a month in the desert rather than a single afternoon. Hudson fixed him with a stern look.

"If you give it too much, you'll be out of the dirt and into the tulips. I've told you that." he reminded. "You don't have three-wheel brakes, son." Although Lightning showed no response to the last word of that sentence, Hudson was taken aback. It would seem to anyone else a situation to not even question, but to him, he had no other regard but bewilderment.

"What?" Lightning asked, puzzled at this change in behavior.

"Nothing." Hudson interjected quickly. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Even if it's not working?!" the kid exclaimed.

"It'll work," the old car said, but his mind was no longer on the present matter.

As was his common style, Hudson took his place at the V8 Café only when the hour was later, when the amount of socializing he'd have to participate in was a lot less. Given what had taken place that day, it was stunning that he didn't want to just go home and stay completely solitary. The only thing he figured stopped him from such was the desire for some sort of company and as his daughter had looked upon Flo as a trusting confidante, so too had he.

"It's mighty fine to see you this evenin', Hudson." Flo greeted him upon stopping at his usual end row park.

"Just as fine to see you as well, Flo." he politely returned. She smiled.

"You just missed your girl not even ten minutes ago. She was telling me all about how you've been teaching the boy racing things. She seems so happy about that. How's it all going, anyway?"

"Alright." he said, vague.

"He been minding his P's and Q's, I hope. He hasn't been so bad when I've seen him so maybe he's turnin' over a better leaf." she observed.

"Maybe," the indigo-blue car permitted.

"You want anything, honey?" she asked. "You know the so-called 'closing hours' don't mean anything to my favorite regulars."

"I'm fine, thank you." he assured with a small smile.

"Well, alright. Let me know if your mind changes." she said before turning to resume her check of everything at the station being tidy and right for next day's business. When she was done with this and also recording all of that day's sales in the main building, she doused the lights on the other island and returned to her sole customer. She thought he looked especially pensive that evening, almost to where he seemed faintly startled to see her right before him when he looked up from the glossy surface of his hood.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Hudson." she mentioned. "You doing okay?" She meant this in the most basic sense but also one a little broader. Now that she was aware of the history the coupe had had, she understood the reasoning for the slightly crooked tilt of his frame although tonight it leaned to its weaker side more than normal. He was aware she saw this and that she recognized why it was the way it was, therefore making no effort to right it. It didn't really dull the ache of it all anyway.

"I'm doing okay," he told, mirroring her inquiry, fooling both. The doubt was clear in her green eyes.

"You sure, honey?" she gently pressed. Flo was the sort who could always decipher the truths that lay behind a lie. It was up to the individual to decide whether they wanted to admit it to themselves or outwardly share it. Hudson had already acknowledged it to himself and although he wasn't sure about sharing, he wasn't certain about keeping it silent either. Things always got out in the open somehow; his life of late proved that.

"No," he eventually relented. "I'm not."

She reviewed him with her warm, non-judging countenance, an innate gift. "Anything I can help with?" she asked. He shook his hood for no.

"It's just something small. Nothing to worry over." he said. She wasn't one though to simply hear that and heed it.

"Sometimes the small things can be just as bothersome as the big ones, Hudson. Whichever way, I'm glad to hear 'em out." she softly told. He knew there was no backdoor out now although some part of him was also glad of this.

"I called the kid 'son'." he finally gave up. Even as he said it he wondered anew what had compelled him to use that very word. Flo shallowly nodded.

"There's nothing wrong with that, honey." she pointed out.

"I don't know _what_ made me say it, though. The thing is, it _seemed_ natural enough to say until I heard it. And then I don't know why I did say it." he said, more to himself than even to her. She leaned in to give him a light nudge with her nearest fender.

"You go on and call me crazy if you wish, but I think I know why this happened." she softly replied. His expression was wry.

"Enlighten me," he said to her.

"You probably don't see it but when you teach the boy things," Flo replied, "you don't do it in the way of a trainer or a coach or some other professional. You teach him as if he _were_ your son, with the guidance of a father. You have patience with him and explain anything he doesn't understand. You gave him pointers on how to treat a girl right, too." She smiled at this aspect. "The way I see it, Hudson, you watch over the boy. For all the ills he may've caused us in the very beginning, something in him began straightening out when he started to spend time with you. Maybe even when he figured out who you used to be. For the ways that you've taught him, it doesn't seem too shocking that you did call him 'son', at least to me."

"It doesn't seem right though," he replied. "It seems like a…" The thought remained unfinished. He thought anew about what exactly was bothering him about it all.

"Like a what, honey?" Flo gently encouraged. He met her eyes clearly again.

"A betrayal," he finally said. "It seems like a betrayal."

Flo did not understand. Not immediately. "To Grace? I'm sure that's not even a thought crossing her mind."

"No," he clarified. "Not to Grace." A space of significant silence passed. She did not fill any of it with inquiry. The words Hudson was to say were wrought of such bitter truths that he was reluctant to voice them, but he finally did, all the same. "Not a betrayal to Grace. One to… my son."

The mint-green car was struck by this confession, a confession where no effort was made to gloss over the stark sadness and essence of "if onlys" behind it. She was faced with a pair of azure-blue eyes that mirrored these same feelings. For once, even she was lost on what to say. What could even be right?

"How can I rightfully call _him_ that when I never had the chance with my own son?" he asked. She didn't know if he even wanted an answer but searched until words were found.

"Maybe the reason you said that was because somewhere, when you've been teaching the boy, maybe you see it as what could've been between you and your son in a future point if things hadn't gone like they did in 1959. Maybe your boy would've been interested in racing too, and you would've taught him. Maybe somewhere in you, what's taking place seems right even while it seems wrong. Maybe one of them 'maybes' makes some sense to you, honey."

At long last he replied with a hesitant sort of nod. She didn't press him to speak, instead continuing on her own. "I guess the most important thing to wonder is whether or not you've really betrayed those you love, Hudson. For these forty-five plus years I've known you, you've put everyone who's ever meant something at the forefront of importance. Cornelia, bless her heart, was absolutely cherished by you. Grace has always been just as loved. You've watched over them, prevented anyone from ever trying to harm or harass them. Sadly, you never had the chance to know your youngest daughter and your son, but I know you would've treated them no less. Your family means something dear to you. Betrayal is marked by forgetting, honey. You've done anything but forget. I don't think there's too terribly much to be sorry or regretful about, to be honest with you. What you said was something only natural. I think of your Grace as my 'adopted' daughter and call her my little girl, but I don't forget the longing I've had and won't ever lose for a child of my own. How can you truly betray when you never stop remembering?"

Hudson considered this. "I'm not really sure," he allowed. She gave him a soft, sympathetic smile.

"Try to not over think it. I don't know of anyone who'd consider what you said as a disloyalty. I know Grace wouldn't. I doubt Cornelia ever would either."

He sighed. "I see where you're right."

"Just try to not let it bother you. That's the only thing I think is fit to say." she told.

The two shared just a little more conversation until Hudson wished her a goodnight and slowly drove back to his darkened business and his home. He thought of what Flo had said, thought of what he knew was true and wasn't. Still though, he thought of something else. How could you betray if you always remembered? How could you truly remember if you never knew? He had had his own son, yes, but his knowing of the child went no further than the miscarriage formed by his mate's tragic accident and the necessary yet harsh act of signing three certificates of death on one day, two having no formal names.

Could you betray if you never honestly knew someone?

Sleep was evasive for the old blue coupe that night and he could only think it all over so many times before he had to give up, trading these repetitious thoughts for that day's _Daily Exhaust_ , not yet considered aside from a vague glance. The subject he so tried to avoid though proved inescapable, the font commanding any viewer's attention:

 **RACER LIGHTNING MCQUEEN STILL MISSING**

 _It has been nearly fourteen days now and the Piston Cup hopeful, Lighting McQueen, is still officially considered lost. Fans everywhere are outraged and fearful for the whereabouts of their favorite car, and rumors of carnapping have circulated wide about the circuit. We again stress that if anyone reading this has any tips on McQueen to please contact us_ _via the number below – any time of day or night. WE ONLY SEEK REAL LEADS – NO PRANKS._

Hudson considered the rest of the article and ultimately made the decision that would set everything in the future into motion with a single telephone call.


	77. Chapter 77

77~

Confliction ran through Hudson's mind more than once since the eve of the call to _The Daily Exhaust_ , but he let it show in no other form than staying remotely standoffish to McQueen which, given how things had gone between those two since Lightning's arrival into town, didn't really alarm the rookie much. He was still of the age where he considered anyone older than him an enigma either impossible to figure out or not entirely worth it in the first place. He had Sally, he was still trying to figure out the conundrum of turning right to go left, and he also had in mind a surprise for the town but mainly her.

The Porsche's eyes grew wide with wonderment when evening fell this particular day and throughout the whole of Radiator Springs, the dazzling neon again glowed, flickered, and created awe to all who saw it. From Mater to Guido, everyone was thrilled to see their town's transformation back to how it used to be in the golden yesteryear, before the Interstate proved to be a curse over being a blessing. The glory of her town harkened Lizzie's memory back to the days when her beloved Stanley still drove beside her. It also tempted Ramone and Flo to take a cruise down the main drag as they had in their youngest years of marriage. Even though she was much younger in the town's heyday, seeing the revived splendor rang a bell for Grace and she found an old memory polished anew of her as a child dazzled by the reds and oranges, purples and blues. She felt transported back to her girlhood and nearly expected to see her mother at any moment. Or, at least her father. Where was he? She questioned it, but didn't worry over it. She was sure he was around; although the fact the lights of the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic remained the darkest structure in town did baffle her to a degree. Her pondering was interrupted by the rusted tow truck as he pulled up by her. "Mind if I have this here drive with you, Miss Grace?" She laughed.

"I don't mind at all, Mater." she told him, smiling. That night, everyone was as filled with happiness as their glossy paints reflected the parti-colored neon glow.

The festivities were cut short when the gleam of headlights tore apart the gloom on Highway 66 where it meandered off into the desert before coming into the small burg. Flo was the first to notice it. Could it be too much to hope the town would be getting its first tourists in months on its night of revived glory also? She pulled away from Ramone and took center stage in the middle of the freshly paved roadway. "Is that what I think it is?!" she announced to her friends and neighbors. Sally, deeply entranced in the moment and in the company of the one who had made it all happen, simply sighed.

"I don't know, Flo, but I am ready to find out." she murmured, giving the rookie racer an affectionate nuzzle which he didn't seem like he expected totally but warmly accepted all the same. Flo for once wasn't interested in the dawn for young lovers though.

"Not _that_ ," she clarified and motioned to the approaching cars. "That!" Her words had barely been spoken before life fell apart that evening in Radiator Springs. A spotlight from a helicopter above illumined Lightning. Every manner of reporter from every newspaper around (television stations, too) swarmed the community, brought up at the rear by Mack, McQueen's hauler, a individual that Lightning hadn't seen in what felt like years. He was thrilled to see him, but joy quickly turned to perplexity when he began to realize why everyone was here. Reporters swamped him before he could even get in more than a dozen words edgewise.

"Is it true you've been in rehab?"

"Rumors have said you were carnapped, Mr. McQueen."

"Could you please tell us what happened?"

"What brought you out to the middle of the desert?"

Lightning's mind spun with the babble of noise and only with Mack's help was he able to separate himself from the melee and there faced Sally in the best one-on-one the situation could offer, although it was still far from quiet. Everything he wanted to say to her came in false starts, never sounding right the moment it was voiced. She looked on, her eyes pained by understanding everything behind them. She summoned up a brave smile. "Thank you," she said. "Thanks for everything."

"It was nothing…" he offered. "It was just a road."

"No," she insisted. "It was much more than that."

At the urging of Mack and upon the flurry of the reporters, Lightning McQueen regretfully returned to the trailer which would take him back to California, back to the racing world, and back to his competitive bid for Dinoco to sponsor him. No matter how much he wanted that life, suddenly he felt like he still hadn't seen enough of Radiator Springs and of Sally. He struggled to see her a final time and called out her name but the closing of the trailer's ramp door cancelled any chance. As quickly as he was just there, he was gone. As Mack left, the reporters slowly began to also, forming their convoy which they'd keep all the way out and back to Lightning's final destination. A final television van and his female reporter were some of the last to go, but not until they saw Hudson, who had stayed away the entire night under the knowing this massive change in his town's existence would take place. The reporter came over to him as he slowly pulled away from the shadows of Ramon's House of Body Art.

"Hey, are you a Mr. Hudson Hornet?" she asked. He answered affirmative. "Thanks for the call." she told before turning to leave with her companion on the long road out of the town. Hudson watched the retreating processional, his demeanor calm, until Sally whom had overheard pulled before him. Her eyes were a tangle of confusion, hurt and ultimately something like resentment.

"You called them?" she asked.

"It's best for everyone, Sally." he reasoned.

"Best for everyone?" she asked, the indignant inflection in her voice plain. "Or best for _you_?"

They all watched as the lights from McQueen's convoy grew fainter and fainter until finally disappearing from sight. "I didn't even get to say goodbye…" Mater lamented. Slowly the gathered townsfolk began to retreat, one by one, to their respective places and then all around the beautiful, glowing neon began going dim. The music stopped at the V8 Café, its rainbows of lights fading to black. Ramone's House of Body Art followed suit, then the Cozy Cone, the souvenir shop, and everything else in between until finally all that shone were the few arc sodium lamps and the lone blinking stoplight at the town's square. All of the residents had vanished, even Grace. She didn't yet know who had made the call to collect Lightning, but the sudden turn of events and moods left her depressed enough where she saw no other option than to return home.

Hudson pulled out onto the road, under the blinking light. Silence hung over Radiator Springs like a shroud, heavier than he felt it had ever been before. The switch from glorious light to oppressive darkness was one of the worst things he realized he'd ever seen paired with the demolished spirits of those he counted as friends as much as neighbors. He heard Sally's voice once more in his mind.

 _"_ _Best for everyone? Or best for_ you? _"_ __

In vain he tried to seek any remnant of a glow from the tail lamps of McQueen's departing group, but nothing was there on the horizon, as he already expected. The rookie racer hadn't even been gone for a half-hour, and the old coupe already questioned his decision, and whether it was right.

. . . .

The sadness that descended onto Radiator Springs was like a fog, but one that would not burn off upon being touched by the sun. The residents all tried to keep a cheery outlook, namely Flo and Mater, but inside they all were struck more than they all could've guessed by the departure of the car whom had torn up their road and somewhere along the line began to turn over a new leaf in demeanor. Grace could admit that the rookie tried even her smooth patience in the very beginning, but as the days had rolled on and he had grasped who exactly her father was, she had seen the side of him not permeated by the ego that usually came with such a job. She began to enjoy his company and even jested him in good fun when he'd happen onto the V8's lot under her shifts. The night that the town (and the residents) relived youthful years under the basking of the neon's classic radiance was one of the most amazing things she had ever witnessed there in a long time, but how quickly that candle was snuffed upon the reporters infiltration of the town and the apologetic hauler who would whisk the young car back to his life; to his career. She knew she should've been glad that he was returning to what he claimed he loved, but all the same, she had to admit she missed him. He had started to experience what life was like out of the fastest lane, and to a degree, seemed to enjoy it. She had to be sensible though. He was back to where he belonged, and with her unfailingly sweet spirits, had to hope he found what he was looking for.

The conflicting feelings over Hudson's decision went from it being "harmless" to "harmful" from the moment he retired at night until the break of dawn. Everything he saw now was the end product of his decision. After Lightning McQueen's leave, the repaired neon did not go on once down Main Street. Only the most necessary gleam that the V8 always had had burned through the cover of night; any of its extra glory doused. The Cozy Cone, so cheerful when it was all aglow remained as bleak as it had been for the past several decades. No one dwelled in their unhappiness, but it was plain to anyone aware all the same. They had all become glad of the young car's company. They were all older and sometimes just the spark of youth could add something different to their days. The town had retreated again to its pre-McQueen ways. Even worse, in several ways. The residents were banded together as neighbors yet also as family. They were all hurting. Hudson couldn't deny the fact he was the one to blame. He was the one to snuff the candle.

A couple of weeks went by where he weighed the decision back and forth. He wasn't entirely eager for it, but he had learned what _he_ wanted sometimes had to be set aside for what was best for everyone involved. Sally's piercingly blunt inquiry hadn't left him once and he had to admit he had sent Lightning away for his sake, not for the town's. He had sent him away because he feared betraying one he had never known, and because somewhere, being faced with his racing past still didn't settle well with him. Whether it did or didn't though, the needs of others outshone his own stubbornness to face all of the ghosts of yesteryear.

He drove to Ramone's House of Body Art one uneventful day to ask for what he never thought he request again. The red Impala looked away from his latest decorated hood assortment upon seeing the blue coupe. "Hey, how you doin', man?" he greeted. The older car offered a plain smile.

"I'm alright. I was hoping you could do something for me." he replied. Ramone abandoned the hoods.

"Oh, you better believe I could. Hasn't been one job I haven't been able to do and I hope to keep it that way, y'know? Do you need a new coat of poly, man?"

Hudson wasn't entirely sure of this point and so shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. I need something else first though."

"You have but to name it, _amigo_." the Impala assured. Hudson inwardly sighed and without a word procured the old newspaper he had had from his youth and which his future wife had mounted on the wall. He knew the headline well

 **HUD DOES IT AGAIN!**  
 **TWO TIME PISTON CUP WINNER**

Ramone looked over it. " _Hijole_ , man." – He looked at the photo joining the words – "That's you?" Hudson nodded, wry.

"That's me." he said. The Impala took a few moments to read the article on the yellowed paper.

"Man, you were really good. Two time winner. I don't even understand all of this stuff and I still know that's somethin'." He looked up from the 1952 edition of _The Daily Exhaust_. "So, uh, what was it you wanted me to do? A coat of poly?"

Hudson shook his hood. "You see that photo there? I need you to repaint me to look like that." Ramone took another look at the sepia-toned image.

"Wait a minute, you mean _all_ of that? The 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet' thing and numbers and everything?" he asked, baffled.

"Yes. All of that. Please." the coupe agreed. Ramone looked from the photo to Hudson and back again, a hazy memory beginning to open within his mind.

"Y'know, I remember way back, _way_ back, there was this car that came to town. I dunno what year – I can't keep track of all that kinda stuff – but he looked just like you and he had numbers and words on him. I figured he was a racecar, y'know, but I guess he was through with his job or was trading numbers or something, 'cuz he wanted it all covered up. I dunno. Really odd deal."

Hudson shook his hood for no once more. "He wasn't trading names or numbers, Ramone. He was leaving that life behind to try to live as a regular town driver. How do I know? I was that car you repainted. I came here not long after I was repaired from my crash in '54 and returned to a racing circuit that told me that I was history. I wanted to forget every part of what used to be so I left my town to wind up here one day where I asked you to repaint me to look like this."

Ramone was surprised. "I… wow. But, I don't understand. If you wanna go back to this paintjob, does that mean you're gonna do racing again?"

"No, no." Hudson clarified. "I'm too old for that."

" _Por qué_? Why then?" __

The old car was reluctant to give up the specific reasoning so left it at a minimum. "You'll see. You'll all see." he said. "Soon."


	78. Chapter 78

78~

Although her sense of manners told her staring was wrong, that was all Grace could do upon seeing her father. Before her was a car she knew so well yet now strikingly different he was too. Again and again her pale blue eyes traced the white and yellow letters trimmed in red on his sides: Fabulous Hudson Hornet. She had only seen it before in the colorless newspaper photos of her father in his glory days. Now it lived on again brightly. She leaned in to get a closer look at the highly detailed art of the crossed checker flags flanking the Piston Cup logo on the side of his nearest fender. This was all like having the magazines of her childhood brought to life again. She blinked.

"You look like a racecar again, Daddy." she murmured. "But, I don't understand." He knew this was coming and tried to have an answer prepared for it, nevertheless hearing his daughter's question proved to be more unsettling than he'd first assumed.

"I know, honey." he said. "I'll tell you. Everything."

Their talk resumed at the overlook to Willy's Butte. He had proposed the short drive to be away from a town that'd soon be filled with more questions he could only answer so quickly. The seafoam-green Cadillac quietly drew alongside him. "Will you tell me now? I'm so confused." she begged. He nodded his newly decorated hood. The noon sun flashed off his hood ornament in blinding light.

"It was my fault, Grace. You deserve to know that first and foremost." he began.

"I still don't understand," she said. He looked over at her.

"I'm the one who told the press the rookie was here," he clarified. Hearing this sent many things spinning through Grace's mind. Although Lightning was a bit of a pill to deal with in his earliest days in her hometown, she had begun to enjoy his company and had been struck by his hasty departure on the same night the neon again blazed down Main Street. Her father – the one she loved so much – had been the one to end that? To end the spark of youth and vitality no one realized how badly Radiator Springs needed until it came. Grace could never find the place in her heart to be angry at her father but was still hurt by the news.

"You did this without telling me?" she said, more to herself than to him. "Why did you call them when things were going so well between us here? Why?"

He was not alarmed by her response, expecting something of the sort the moment he told the truth. "I asked myself the same thing, Grace. The answer was there from the start though: selfishness." She looked at him, her gaze steady, waiting for him to elaborate. "I sent him away because I knew no other way to deal with what had happened. I figured having him go back to where he belonged was best for all of us. But it was only best for me." he added, repeating Sally's words.

"What do you mean, 'what happened'?" she asked.

"It was what I said to him. We were out one day together on the track. I was telling him how to do something, and I called him 'son'." he replied. Grace was likely the only one he knew who could understand the gravity behind such an unassuming thing and felt the majority of her displeasure fade out.

"Oh," she softly said.

"I know to anyone else it would seem crazy something like that bothered me, but all I could think of afterward was how calling him that was a betrayal to your little brother, whether we knew him or not. Indirectly, I later wondered if that could be disloyal to you. And to your mother." he went on. "Flo said there really can't be honest betrayal as long as someone remembers. How can someone remember if they never knew though? That's what kept me up almost all of the night this happened. In that day's newspaper was another headline about the lost rookie. That's when I called them. Not to get him back to a world that would eventually move on to who was upcoming like what happened to me. I made him leave so I wouldn't have to face those questions. Little did I know though that having him gone would make me have to deal with them even more."

Grace didn't answer immediately. Her eyes followed the travel of the clouds beyond the mountain and the nearer sagebrush blown by the stiff desert breeze. She went over what her father had said, partially understanding some parts but being tripped up by others. "But Daddy," she began. "Do you really think Mama would see it that way?"

Now it was his turn to be reflective. "I don't know, darling." he undecidedly allowed. "I don't know."

"I think I might," she offered. "You knew her longer than I did, but when I think of her, I remember someone who was always glad to see somebody else happy. She didn't like to see anybody she loved hurt or affected by something that was never wrong to begin with. She loved you a lot, Daddy. If she didn't want other folks she cared about to be hurt or affected by something, why would she want that for you? For me? She wouldn't. You didn't say what you did to betray my brother on purpose. You said it because he reminded you what it could've been like to have had my brother live. And through him, I live what it could be like to have a sibling. I don't think that to hurt my _real_ brother, though. Or my sister. And I doubt they'd ever see it that way either."

The old coupe was struck by his daughter's viewpoint. She had said things he hadn't even considered, for whatever reason. "Grace, you're a wise girl." he said. She shook her hood.

"Not wise at all, Daddy. Just talking sense." she told him with her loving smile. "Now, will you tell me something else? What does everything we've talked about have to do with you getting a new paintjob? Are you going to become a racer again?"

"No, no. I'm too old and my frame's too bent. I figured there's no going back now. Everyone in town knows who I used to be. The boy knows. When there's no going back, all someone can do is move forward."

"And?" she prodded gently. He smiled softly in return to her.

"We're going back. To find him. I owe that to you and to everyone else in town."

"Mater didn't even get to say 'goodbye,' he told me." she reflected. He nodded.

"That's one of the reasons we're going back. You've got to say hello again before you say goodbye."

. . . .

The town was shocked when they learned of why Hudson had restored his racing paintwork, from learning he was the one to send the rookie home to realizing he meant it when he said the plans were for all of them to head out to California to find the young car once more. The hurt they felt at knowing the coupe had ended the best day the town had had in years quickly dissolved to excitement at the idea of heading out. Some of them hadn't even left town in decades. Flo was one of them. The last time she'd been outside of the state had been when she was a Motorama girl and whilst she dearly loved Radiator Springs, seeing new sights was always a thrill. Having her job prevented her and Ramone from ever going anywhere for the longest time though, and even when the Interstate damaged tourism, they were undecided of where they even would go when they could. This was the perfect chance. Ramone celebrated the occasion by giving himself a brand-new paintjob and although he wouldn't change his gorgeous wife's coloring come hell or high water, he eventually relented to her asking to give her a new layer of clear coat.

"I hope this is all you want, baby. You know I never want to repaint you." he told her once the clear coat had been applied and dried. She rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't aware that you _never_ wanted to repaint me, Ramone. To think you have no issues with me getting chips in my paint! I'm stunned, sugar. Plain stunned." If he could've blanched beneath his new metal-flake crimson paint, he would've.

"No, no, no! _Hijole_ , baby, that wasn't what I meant!" he quickly corrected. She laughed.

"I know that. I'm just teasing you."

" _Carumba_ ," he mumbled. "You get me every time."

"You know," she reflected. "I used to be so mad you didn't want to change my paint color after I quit the Motorama. I began to think you were just like any other guy who liked to keep his girl a certain way."

"Baby, what?!" he exclaimed, this more stunning to him than all prior. She held up a tire.

"I'm not through yet, Ramone, hold your horsepower. I used to associate this here green with being a showgirl, which wasn't all that great after awhile, but now I think of nothing else but Gracie. So, thank you for never listening to me back then and redoing me in some other color, honey." She paired this with her brilliant chromed smile. He was compelled to smile in return.

"No one wears that color like you do, Flo."

"You'll sho' have a fun time keeping those other fellas in California away from me." she playfully said in jest. In a room perfumed by the scents of fresh paints over anything else, the Impala leaned in those few inches to give his wife, a woman whose caring heart held equal light to her striking beauty, a kiss that said everything.

"For you, baby, I will do anything." he promised her.

. . . .

All of the town's residents save just a few left on a Saturday afternoon for their trip to California. It would be a long drive in the sense that the journey wasn't necessarily tedious, but the travelers were all older for the most part and none were interested in going fast. As long as they got to where they needed to in time for the latest race, all would be well. It was the longest drive Grace had embarked on aside from visiting her grandparents in Colorado and she found herself relishing another opportunity to tour the country not alone, but with her father and all of those she had grown to love like a great extended family. For the first few hours of the trip she lingered amidst Flo and Ramone but after a stop at a station she traded places and joined her father, the one she would accompany the rest of the way in. Although she wondered how many fellow motorists would be intrigued by her father's bold racing paintwork, only a handful or so actually took a second look when passing or changing lanes. She thought this to be odd until she forced herself to remember how very much the world had changed since the 1950s and how little many remembered. She couldn't place one child so far that had been giddy at seeing an old coupe wearing the words Fabulous Hudson Hornet on his sides and the number 51. She was initially hurt by such disregard, but knew there was no one to blame. If only they knew though during that day's travel with their folks, once the most famous racecar in the circuit drove amongst them.

They overnighted at an old motel whose heyday looked to have been that of the 1950s. Some of the neon tubes in the sign were broken, but the proprietor had remarkable pride all while doing the very best he could in a world that didn't prize that glory like it once did. He was an older car, just a touch older than Grace, and as she accompanied her father to their room, she wondered if long ago the very fellow who had assigned them there had once come to Radiator Springs.

She was more tired than she expected and begrudgingly had to accept her years, but the concern for the one she had nearest in her life prevailed over all. "What a trip so far, and still so much to see!" she commented as she drew even to her father's length. "I'm so glad we're going though."

"I am also, Grace." Hudson replied. "I really am."

"How are you feeling?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Tired, but I'd say that's pretty normal. I'm not young anymore."

"You know," the Cadillac mused as she watched the sunset out the west-facing window. "I never thought I'd get old. And feel it." Her father gave her a loving nuzzle.

"You're not old, honey." he told her. "Age makes ladies like you and your mother better. I'm the one that just gets old."

She leaned lightly into the affection. "That's nonsense." she said with a laugh before turning serious. "Are you apprehensive about seeing a race again?"

"Apprehension is only natural, I guess, but it's also selfish. I already did the wrong thing once by sending him away for my own reasons. I'm not going to keep doing that sort of thing." he replied. She nodded in quiet understanding. The streaks of color slowly faded from the clouds outside, leaving the world dusky and dark, but not in a way that felt lonely. It was the darkness before a new beginning.

"I'll be glad to see him again. Don't be cross at me for saying that, Daddy." Grace said.

"That'd be the last thought in my mind," he said to her. Silence passed for a few moments although it seemed longer. Then the old coupe said something that Grace was initially shocked by but realized she'd somehow – someday – been expecting it.

"I reckon I'll be glad to see him, too."


	79. Chapter 79

79~

Lightning McQueen was happy enough to be back in California and returned to the racing world, but he missed Radiator Springs and the those he'd met (especially Sally) more than he could have expected. He should have been completely thrilled to be participating in this season's race for the Piston Cup. He should have been focused solely on winning that coveted trophy. He thought he should have considered the fact the racing world had found him in a small burg in Carburetor County to be truly auspicious. Again and again he tried to banish the recent memories of the town, the drives he had taken with Sally, and the small sessions of training he had received from an old indigo-blue coupe who had once been one of the most esteemed racers in not just the country, but the world.

Some things weren't that easy to forget though.

In the section of the track where all racing personnel were stationed, the small group from that forgotten desert town had gathered. Grace thought that the day she actually saw a real race, her heart would be giddy from the excitement of it. Had things run differently in her life, she probably would feel this way that day, as excited even as the many children whom had accompanied their parents in the stands to cheer on their favorite racers. Oh, she _was_ glad to be there and to actually witness a live race finally, but something else overpowered even this: pride. Her father, whom had sworn off ever revisiting that world again (20-odd years before, seeing abandoned Thomasville Speedway had been his limit) had come back to see another young car forge ahead into his future, not as a simple spectator but had chosen to be the racer's crew chief. Every time the younger Cadillac looked at her father on the stand, the California sun setting alight the yellow and white letters reading _Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ , her heart surged with joy.

It was in one of those early laps, as Lightning tailed the ruthless Chick Hicks (his bigger sponsor, the Hostile Takeover Bank explained his personality in a nutshell, basically), he let his mind wander. That seemed to be the most natural response to anything when one's heart wasn't entirely in it. He saw again the drive he had taken with Sally to the waterfall. All of the beauty that was in that moment overpowered him. The rainbows in the mist; the picturesque sculpture of the red rock cliffs; the comely beauty of the Porsche's blue-green eyes. Suddenly, he wasn't even there anymore. Quicker than he could react, he found himself aimed straight at the wall at the track's edge where he soundly collided, spun backwards and careered in a skid across the track and into the grass. The spectators all rose up and peered down in concern. The groupies gasped. Lightning shook himself off from the tumble and the daydream and returned to the track.

" _Hey kid, are you alright?_ " his hauler, Mack, asked over the headset. The young car sighed.

"I don't know, Mack, I just…" he hesitated before being interrupted by a voice, one belonging to someone much older he never figured he'd hear again.

" _I didn't come all this way to see you quit,_ "

He looked up in shock as he drove past where all of the pit-crews for all racers were gathered to see first Mack but then everyone (or _most_ everyone) from Radiator Springs, and the one bearing the title of ad-hoc crew chief, Hudson. The one who had sentenced him to community service paving a road he thought mattered little in the big scheme of things. The one who had tried teaching him the merits of "turning right to go left" even though he found that the most crazy and baffling thing yet to apply to his driving repertoire. He had been so ticked off at this coupe not so long ago but now?

He couldn't have been happier to see someone.

"You're here!" he cried, excited.

"I know you needed a crew chief, but I didn't know it was this bad," the indigo car said but without a hint of malice. Grace couldn't help but giggle at this.

"I thought you said you'd never come back," Lightning remarked.

"Well, Mater didn't get to say 'goodbye.'" Hudson said as the cheerful tow truck came up.

"Goodbyyyyeeee!" he shouted out towards the track. Lightning now was the one to laugh. Suddenly his day felt a thousand times better than it had to begin with. Complete.

The race went as normal as Grace could imagine one would, and although she was enjoying it thoroughly, something happened that was, to her, so special and so beautiful she hadn't even words to describe it. It started with the nearby crew for Strip "The King" Weathers when a little forklift looked over at Hudson and gasped.

"It's _him,_ "

"It is _really_ him?" his companion asked, his eyes as wide. Grace could only assume the commentators and the television crews had spotted this as well for suddenly all eyes had turned away from the race and had locked onto her father, for every racing fan worth his salt was at least familiar with the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Cheers erupted from the stands in a roar that was deafening. Cries of " _He's back!_ " called forth from multitudes of viewers. The fabled car they'd heard of, the one who had disappeared from the racing world to a place no one knew in 1954, had returned. The older fans figured the worst. The younger assumed he would be a sight so fleetingly rare, none would ever have the luck of witnessing him. But there he was – #51 – the car no one doubted as truly fabulous. The cheers went on and on, forever it seemed to Grace. She watched the enthralled, awestruck masses for as long as she could until she could no longer. Not because it was too much, but because her eyes had become flooded with tears. She had shed too many of them in sadness but now they were borne of happiness. Her father was remembered, recognized. He was no longer forgotten.

"Oh Mama," the Cadillac whispered beneath the whistles and shouts, "I wish you could be here to see this."

. . . .

Tragedy struck at the end of the race when the infamous Chick Hicks – growing tired of shadowing Strip Weathers, whom he considered a slow old man – gave him a fierce ram which sent the old car sailing across the track, thrown into the air where he went crashing end over end across the grass in the inner borders of the track. Lightning, farther ahead, hadn't seen the exchange between his competitors and was within sight of the finish line and the highly desired Piston Cup trophy. When the collective gasp rose among the crowds though, he looked over and suddenly seeing what happened, slammed on his brakes, skidding, skidding to within mere inches of the finish line. In his mind, all he could remember was a too-similar faded newspaper photo of the car who was today his crew chief.

"What's he up to?" Flo asked the coupe, but Hudson couldn't answer. His eyes couldn't stray from what they'd seen. It was like his crash relived. 1954's horror rose up from its poorly hidden reaches. He saw this not only as the crash it was but knew something far worse that many – if none – of the common folks watching knew. "The King" had lost his career in the blink of an eye. It was all over.

Grace's heart felt like it'd stopped from the moment the green racer had hit the blue one till he had come to his final resting place on the groomed lawn. She realized she'd been holding her breath too. Shakily she inhaled, but her eyes, like those of her father, did not leave the beaten Plymouth. Was he alright?

Lightning relinquished his chances at winning the race that day and long after Chick Hicks had claimed the victory, the younger car made his way back down the track and to the older one. Without a second thought he got behind him and carefully began to push him forward.

"You just gave up the Piston Cup, you know that?" the scraped and dented Plymouth wheezed. Anyone would have been surprised to see the unaffected look on Lightning's face as he helped the champion to win his last race.

"Eh, this grumpy old racecar I know once told me something," he began. Struck by what he was seeing of the selfless act being performed by the young rookie, Hudson's memories of horror vanished from that moment, but more importantly, what no one knew, was that he had finally laid them to rest forever. He could only look down now on the young car and feel unwavering pride. The start of a smile curved his gleaming chrome bumper.

"It's just an empty cup," Lightning said as Strip Weathers crossed the finish line to the second chorus of cheers for that day.

. . . .

As the race goers booed Chick Hicks in one place and gathered around a beaten but still proud Strip Weathers (a car who would remain forever glorious) in another, Lightning broke away from the pack of news crews and other fans to face _his_ crew, the Rust-eze pack whom in the not-so-long ago earlier days he had been eager to leave, and now the unit from Radiator Springs, a town he'd never heard of but now would never forget. The car he slowed before was Hudson. The old coupe looked upon Lightning with the essences of what could only be called pride yet also some facet of love dwelled there in those azure-blue eyes as well. He had thought it wrong on that one day to call this young car "son;" thought it to be a betrayal to a son he had never known. He had been kept awake for almost the whole of a night debating how you could betray if you remembered and how you could remember if you'd never had that experience. Long after that he had thought of what Grace had said to him, that Cornelia would never see it as forgetting had she had the chance to offer her say in the matter. Even if one had never known something, or _someone_ , beyond one painful glance, love that was true never faded.

Hudson smiled softly at Lightning McQueen in a fashion not unlike what he would have offered to his own son. "You've got a lot of stuff, kid." he said. Grace, flanking him on his left, could offer a similar expression to the car who had wrecked her town, complained the whole while as he repaired his damages but had surprised everyone when he had turned over "the beginnings of a new leaf" that proved this day to not be a fleeting thing, or an act, but truth. She leaned in to give the red car a light kiss on the side of his fender. As their gaze met, she said something that broke her father's heart, but in all of the best ways.

"I'm so proud of you, little brother." she softly said. Her eyes were awash with tears.


	80. Chapter 80

80~

 ** _SOMETIME IN THE 2000s_**

When Lightning made the small desert town of Radiator Springs his personal headquarters, the town arose like a phoenix from the ashes of obscurity. His well-known status attracted the young and the old, the nearby and the faraway, to journey to that previously unheard of burg in the heart of Carburetor County, flanked by the beautiful wonders of the Ornament Valley. One by one, the businesses were revived. Neon glowed and snapped with its lively colors every evening. Tourists again congregated at the V8 Café. The first time Flo saw the throngs of travelers begin to return to her town, something she hadn't seen in full since the 1960s, she went home that evening and cried – not from sadness but from the happiness she felt at seeing what she never figured would happen again to her community after it had been erased from the maps.

Guido and Luigi spruced up their Casa Della Tires (for once stocking the more in-mode blackwalls before the whites) and their efforts were rewarded when they both laid eyes on a _real_ Ferrari for the first time, he and his friends being recommended the business by Lightning himself.

The Radiator Springs Drive-In was restored to its 1950s glory and movies were shown on a regular basis. The long-abandoned Wheel-Well Motel was reopened and near-constantly packed with eager lodgers. Ramone was busy once more doing custom paintwork for a variety of guests, from the ones you'd expect to want a sporty do-over to ones you wouldn't assume to be interested at all. He wouldn't forget the sweet little granny anytime soon who wanted ghost flames put on her hood. A dilapidated structure at the entrance of town was restored to become a racing museum dedicated first to the one who had changed Lightning McQueen's look on life in a way that wasn't the "start of the turning of a new leaf" but one now that had been "flipped over" the whole way. Mater was one who cheerfully led guests around on tours. One of the first attendees was Strip Weathers and his wife where he related the Fabulous Hudson Hornet had been _his_ inspiration.

Grace sometimes led tours also on her days off and with pride she told a different story than anyone would ever hear about the famous racer. Seeing the children's reactions when she revealed who she was in the scheme of it all never failed to bring a smile to her face. Her group this day was a Buick station-wagon and her son, a first-rate cutie if Grace had ever seen one. When the younger Cadillac paused before the large-format photo of another beautiful early-1950s one (the picture was hung without question, the reasoning would be plain to anyone once all had been learned about its purpose), a flicker of bemusement lit the eyes of the mother but her little boy even more.

"Is _she_ a racecar too?" he squeaked. Grace laughed softly and shook her hood. Her eyes drifted up to the black-and-white portrait of a car she hadn't seen in the jade-green of living since 1959 – other than in her memories.

"No, honey." she said. "Any idea of who she is though? Here's a hint: she's someone close to me."

The boy considered. His mother encouraged him. The child thought and shuffled his tires around. He looked at the photo, then back to Grace. "Your mommy?" he guessed.

"Yes! You're so smart." she praised. "She _is_ my mama. Now, you're probably both wondering why her picture is in a racing museum, since she was never a racecar. She loved racing since she was a girl, much as I did. She attended all of the events she could, but her favorite car in the whole circuit was one known as #51."

"The Fabulous Hudson Hornet!" the tot exclaimed with great enthusiasm, remembering all he'd seen so far in the museum.

"You are right again!" Grace said, smiling at him. "He was her favorite car and she attended his every race."

"That's a very dedicated fan," the boy's mother observed.

"She was. Her girlhood dream was to someday achieve the impossible. She hoped to marry him." Grace went on. "Anyone else would tell her she was crazy, but she had hopes that didn't fail. In 1953 the famous car she had befriended asked her to marry him."

"And?" the boy asked, hooked. The Cadillac laughed softly.

"Well, I wouldn't be here if something good didn't happen from that. The car you've learned about here is my daddy." she said. The young child began to open his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the bell above the museum's door opening as another visitor came in. "I'll be with you in a minute!" she called out. "Now, what were you going to say, honey?" she asked, leaning in towards the kid. He had no words to get out though when his mouth fell open and his eyes went saucer-wide. "Why, what…?" she questioned before following the kid's eyes to see a blue coupe she knew so well slowly pull through the doorway of the room they all sat in.

"Daddy!" she greeted. "You have perfect timing!"

"I had an idea you'd be here and – " he began to say but didn't finish the thought when his azure eyes found the pie-eyed little kid staring at him like he'd seen the most amazing thing in the world, and given he was a fan of the racing world, this was likely true. The boy's mother smiled politely at the legend.

"I hadn't the slightest idea seeing the real deal was part of the tour, Mr. Hornet." she kindly said. "Thank you for making my little guy's day so special."

Some small part of Hudson's mind thought to say the matter had been entirely coincidental, but although he hadn't been the parent to a young child in a very long time, he still had the mindset of a caring father no matter what and that meant never spoiling something for a youth. He returned to her a smile that hadn't faded at all from the brilliance of those in the old newspapers framed upon the walls. "You're welcome." he said, and then looked down his indigo hood to the still-stunned child residing just a touch right of his hood ornament. "And what's your name?" he asked of the tot, who suddenly snapped to attention at being addressed by the most famous racecar _ever_.  
"I'm Stevie and are you _really_ the Fabulous Hudson Hornet?!"

Although the subject of his famous past had once been something Hudson was loathe to ever mention – even once to his own daughter in the so long ago – he tried remembering the best parts of that life first. And so to this question, he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I sure hope so! If not, I'll have to get a new paintjob, and I've already had four of those. Enough for me."

Humorous befuddlement lay in Stevie's eyes at this. Grace corrected it with her gentle nature. "He's just fooling with you." she whispered his way.

"WOW," the kid breathed when he realized he _was_ really looking at a legend. Grace pulled up along her father's nearest side. "You can go ahead and come closer, honey." she offered.

"I don't mind," her father reassured. The last thing he liked was being treated as some unreachable "idol." He had had enough of that sort of thing in his youth. Obeying this, the boy rolled over with eyes scanning every detail of his revived racing paintwork in amazement. Grace lost track of how many times the child said "wow" after she counted to five. A permanent smile adorned her face in a fashion very akin to her father's. After the kid had made his tour of examining every square inch of the coupe's racing paintwork, from his crossed checker-flag logo for the Piston Cup to his dirt track racing tires, he faced the old car and chirped with the biggest grin. "You're the most amazingest racecar ever!"

After they left (Mom regretfully had to tear her boy away so they could hopefully reserve a room at the Cozy Cone or the Wheel Well since they had stopped at the museum before doing anything else), Grace turned her gaze to her father. "He's right, you know." she pointed out.

"About what?" he asked.

"That you're the 'most amazingest racecar ever.' I couldn't argue with that." she said, and hearing an adult say that crazy little kid made-up word caused both to laugh. "Thanks for making his day, Daddy. He won't forget that anytime soon."

"I admit I had no idea anybody was here." he confessed. "And I have to also admit I didn't think someone so young would have even heard of my racing years, much less cared."

Grace gave him a nudge. "A true fan of the sport should learn first the earlier inspirations for today's racers. And anyway…" she went on, grinning. "I keenly remember a certain girl who loved learning of the champions so much, she fished racing magazines out of the trash at Flo's. She was pretty young too, you know."

Her father nodded. "True. She was."

"And," the Cadillac added. "She loved the sport when it was the last proper thing for a girl to like, but fate had it she was just like her mama who was the same." Simultaneously a pair of soft blue eyes and one the azure of the sky drifted to the large photograph of a lovely early-1950s-era car. Her sweet smile lived on in permanence despite dying away too long ago. The beaded-wood frame bordering it only added to the image. A simple, brass plate at the bottom center softly gleamed. ' _CORNELIA HORNET_ ' was etched across it.

"What would Mama think?" Grace asked. "How would she feel about everything that's happened since she died and everything greater that's happened now? Would she like Lighting? Would she like this museum?"

Hudson did not look away from that old photograph – could not. As would always happen when seeing an image of her, the one and only love of his life, his attention landed first on her eyes where (if he thought hard enough) even in a black-and-white image he could once again see that unique spring-green color within them over those shades of grey. To see it in reality again though… if only.

"I think if she could see the town now, she'd never believe it had died from what the Interstate did. All she knew was the storefronts being open and the neon lights always on," he related to his daughter. "I don't think she ever could have guessed something like the Interstate would ruin so much, but true to her nature, she would have hoped it'd be for the best. Just like we all thought that road would be."

"Except you," Grace pointed out. He looked to her once more.

"True. I reckon I never have been the most optimistic when it comes to some of those things. If your mother could see the town now, though, after all that happened? She'd be happy. She would have been the first to take a drive down Main Street the night those lights first came back on."

"Would she have liked this here, the museum?"

He offered her a gentle smile. "Well, I don't think she'd like seeing her portrait that large. Your mother was a very modest lady." Grace couldn't help but laugh at the idea. Somehow, she'd never considered this before now. "Do you think she'd like Lightning?" she added in question. She knew her thoughts but was curious towards his now that the boy had changed. Hudson took a few moments to consider before finally nodding.

"Yes, she would. Even in those days when he drove the rest of us crazy, she would've seen the best in him, somewhere. If she had seen that race when he gave up his own chance to instead help another win his last race, she would have been proud. And I think she would have come to love him."

"Do you love him, Daddy?" she asked. She saw the actions between the young car and her father and could deduce what she saw as truth from it, but wondered if he would say it. And then she wondered why she'd even questioned him to begin with. He considered her question and the answer he'd give. Not very long ago he would have agonized over it being a betrayal until finally seeing in this situation, something that tragic could never exist.

"I do, darling. I guess somewhere for me he's the son I never got to have. And for how he's changed, I'm proud of him."

"And he's the brother I never had also," she gently added to that. "The way you and him get along, the ways you've taught him the ways of racing, all of that, it makes me think of how you would have been with my real little brother. And I think Mama would have gladly 'adopted' him also. But there's something else you don't know."

"Which is?" he inquired. She looked first to that photo of her mother before again facing him.

"You're proud of Lightning. I am too, but even more than him, I'm prouder of someone else: you. This life represented in all of these front page newspapers here on these walls was one that failed you when something awful happened that wasn't your fault. You left it to come out to this community to forget it all which was impossible. You came here with Mama to live as a normal car without a famous past although some hint of the 'what was' likely found you every day. Then in 1985 you faced Thomasville again, a place that had ghosts in every corner. That was hard, I know, but then this 'delinquent kid' comes to town here, tears up our road but also opens all of our hearts even if not all of us wanted to outright say it. Because of him, you returned to the racing world again not as a spectator or an active racer, but the crew chief he needed most. Twenty-something years ago, neither one of us could guess what happened now did. When Lightning realized you were there, he lit up like the fourth of July because he came to love you, too. We may have called him a delinquent, but he was really just someone young who'd lost their way and needed someone to help him find it again. You're the one to do it." she said and gave him a kiss on the side of his fender. "Lightning just got lucky that you are 'the most amazingest racecar' in the world also."


	81. Chapter 81

81~

Although Hudson was a remotely serious type, something about having the young racecar there in town changed him as much as it did everyone in their own unique ways. The way the old coupe changed was to give up the act of burying a past that could never vanish entirely and if welcoming it wasn't an option, at least accepting it could be a possibility. Lightning eagerly learned the sorts of things the past-champion could teach him to broaden his own racing skills and even better his chance to one day win the hoped-for Piston Cup. The young car appreciated all he learned but there was still something lacking from it all. Finally he voiced what it was to his teacher.

"Why don't you _show_ me how to do some of these things?" the young racer offered to the older. A grin was plastered to his face. Hudson looked at him in a questioning way.

"And in what way do you mean that, punk?" he asked. Both knew that term was simply said in a joking way and meant absolutely nothing of callousness, but Lightning still enjoyed firing something back of similar spirit.

"Okay, I'll explain." he replied, still grinning. "Why don't _you_ race _with_ me, old timer?"

"Is that what you think?" the coupe asked back. Lightning faked exasperation.

"C'mon, you know you want to. I'm a racecar. You're a racecar. You can't forget that feeling of being on the track that easy, can you? I mean, dirt couldn't have been that much different than pavement." he wheedled. That easy, casual smile Hudson wore so well curved his front bumper in a fashion subtle but very plain to Lightning all the same.

"Alright, you win. A track is a track, whether it's dirt or whether it's asphalt."

"So, I'm gonna guess that means you haven't forgotten what it's like, right? Even though it must seem like a hundred years since you've actually raced?" the younger pressed. Hudson shook his hood for opposition.

"No, I haven't forgotten and I doubt I ever will. Even if it does seem like a hundred years."

Lightning looked to the west; about an hour and a half was left till the sun set, maybe less if the lower clouds came over and blocked the light. He shuffled impatiently on his tires and faced his mentor anew.

"Well, come on then! Daylight's burning! You've gotta say 'yes.' Pleeeeaassse? Just _one_ lap?" he begged with such fervor that the old coupe chuckled.

"Alright. If one lap is all you want now, we'll do it. You owe me 499 later on though." he jested as he pulled beside the red car at the makeshift starting line at the Willy's Butte track. Lightning rolled his eyes in akin humor.

"Sure, sure. Just not tonight, okay?"

"If you say so, Rookie." Hudson relented before cranking over his engine, not in the way of their last shared "race" where he made it sound as shabby as possible, but of a way that showed its true racing strength that had never faded away. And although he could admit to having a good bit of fun not answering the young car outright on whether or not he truly remembered the feeling of racing, there was no doubt he didn't forget and never would. From the first time he had raced on this very track for his beloved Cornelia decades ago, to when he had raced alone when the kid had first come to town, and now, he would never grow weary of the feeling of speed and the wind rushing past. When the joy of that moment came, he could forget for that time all of the bad. He could forget that crash that sent his career to the beginning of its end. He could forget how that same event had left him with a crooked and permanently damaged chassis. He could forget it all for then and revel in the glory of being _free_. This time for him presented something he necessarily didn't expect; that it would be even more enjoyable when racing not against but _with_ another. Although if viewed by the most basic eye to see one of the two was young and one much older, the mere numbers of age meant nothing for at heart, they were both the same. Neither would ever lose the verve brought by the love of racing down a track – be it dirt or asphalt. While Hudson's racing career had been cut short, much too short, in the long ago 1950s, these scattered interludes could again make him think of what it could have been like to last in that world just a little longer.

In the heat of the moment, Lightning decided to try something a little different than what he'd ever attempt in a real race and just before the "finish line" was reached, he slowed down just enough, just a fraction, to allow what he wanted to take place. Even after both cars had drawn to a halt once more, the pallor of dust in the air, burning bright orange from the sun's light, hung in a fog around them. When it cleared enough for either to see, Hudson smirked at the younger car. "Figured it'd be nice to let the old timer win, dirtboy?"

Lightning's eyes went wide. "Huh? What?! I didn't think…"

"I'm just messing with you, kid. I didn't win though. I would've had to run another 499 laps and still come out first to win. Now _that's_ real racing." he replied, smiling. Lightning mirrored this.

"Okay, well, whenever you want to try that, just let me know." he chuckled. Hudson's azure-blue eyes looked upon the younger car with a loving, fatherly light.

"If you're up to trying to beat me, then I'm up to trying to beat you, son." he said. That very small, final word had caused nothing more than confusion and anguish before; feelings of doing nothing but wrong although there had been nothing truly wrong with saying it. Nothing wrong with learning to love someone else in an opportunity he had lost but now through fate had regained.

. . . .

Lightning went to find Grace post-haste as soon as he returned to town after his training session had ended for that day. Her shift at the V8 was near ending when he met up with her and although it was a struggle, he silently waited till she was through and had given the proprietress the customary goodnight kiss before tugging her aside to talk.

"What's the excitement?" she asked with her inherent enthusiasm and youthful smile that made her seem only a fraction older than the young racer. The broad grin seemingly stuck on Lightning's face amused her even more.

"Your dad is _amazing_!" he cried. The Cadillac's smile brightened.

"You've just _now_ noticed, little brother?" she teased. "What happened to make you realize this?" He fixed her the humorous sort of look that was precisely what a little brother would face his older sister with, prompting a laugh from the seafoam-green car.

"He can still race! See, what happened was that I asked him to _show_ me some of the things he was talking about and he finally agreed to a lap around Willy's Butte. Oh! It was great. He's so fast still and so good. That drift is incredible!"

"He actually raced again?" Grace asked, awestruck at this reveal. Lightning nodded with such gusto he looked like a bobble-top figure. "I never thought my daddy would ever agree to something like that. Tell me something, Lightning, and be honest: Was it the way I hoped; was he happy?" The rookie kept nodding.

"You should've seen him, Grace! It was like he'd never left that world." She looked at him with her calm blue eyes.

"He _didn't_ leave that world, little brother." she gently corrected. "That world left him."

Grace was sure to pay her father a call before heading home that night. Her smile couldn't be dimmed when she met the indigo-blue but now quite dusty coupe in the lot of the Ornament Valley clinic. "So," she teased upon pulling up around beside him. "I heard you went to the drag strip, Daddy."

"Must have been someone posing as me then, darling, because that wasn't my style." he answered with his easy smile.

"Well, you did something somewhere unless Ramone gave you a clear coat that's a dust magnet." she went on, giving him a gentle nudge with her fender. "Lightning says you raced him. And maybe won, also."

"Winning doesn't happen after just one lap, darling." he replied. "And yes, it's true. I gave in to it. The ways he said it made me agree." Although Grace wanted nothing greater than to see such a spectacle with her own eyes, she approached these matters one at a time, knowing at some point this could be mentioned.

"How was it, Daddy? Did you like it?"

The old car sat silent for awhile. Both watched the evening bustle at the V8 and the eager gesturing of Guido to a customer at the tire shop. "I don't really know the best way to put it, honey, so I'll just hope it'll come out right." he began. "What I'm going to say isn't really news, because in some form or another, you've heard it before. When I was young, racing was my world because it brought for me this sort of freedom and joy nothing else could replicate in the same way. After my crash; after I came out here in 1954 and returned to your mother with that plain paintjob, I told myself I'd forget the life I once led just as easily. Thought I could cover it up under the effects of a new town and new job just like that solid blue paint covered up my racing name and numbers and decorations. How can you ever forget you were though? Even in those early days, I think I believed I had the recent past covered fairly well, but then that one time came – in the beginning; when your mother and I were on vacation here – that we attended the weekend race at Willy's Butte. Back then they were a common event and although neither one of us wanted to see it, we went. Everyone else in town loved it so I just tried to get past my differences. But the moment I saw the cars on that track? Everything I had 'forgotten' proved it never would be, and it's stayed that way for over 45 years. You can't forget who you are in your heart."

Grace had long ago abandoned watching the town and her eyes rested solely on the only parent she had. "You said years ago that you raced because it made you happy. Even though it was just one lap, did it still create that magic?" He couldn't help but softly smile at her choice of word, an expression she mirrored.

"I reckon it did, Grace." he said. "I can't deny how happy racing can make me even though I've tried to." The Cadillac considered this recent news paired with their recent attendance in California for the young racer.

"Mama would be so happy too." she said. "So happy and so proud."

The old coupe continued watching the activity at the V8 down the street. "I raced once for your mother." he reminisced. "Long ago. It was for our anniversary. That was when you were just a little girl and stayed with Flo."

"I remember that…" Grace murmured, looking up to the dusky sky. "That's been a long time." She turned back to her father wholly. "So, you raced for Mama. You went along with Lightning. Do I have to ask or beg for you to race for me – and for our town?" Her father looked to her with that loving gaze that never would change.

"Of course not, darling. You don't have to ask or beg at all."

. . . .

That sunny afternoon at Willy's Butte was like a snapshot come to life from 40-odd years ago. Along the ridge overlooking the track sat every resident of the town. Flo and Ramone sat alongside each other. Guido excitedly shuffled around beside old and trembling Lizzie whose pale blue-grey eyes enjoyed the spectacle of whom she called the "sexy hotrods." They all were there like they had been in the days of yore when the local weekend races were one of the small town's greatest attractions. Back when all of them were young and never expected the future they had now lived through.

Closest to the track below the small rise sat Grace, unknowingly where her mother had been before on one of her final anniversaries. It was a coincidence but one Hudson could call befitting perfection. The town's sheriff stated the race rules just like he had that time before, but on this occasion the eyes of the old racer and the young one met in a way that silently said no one would be playing tricks to be flung in a cactus patch now. They had agreed on a ten-lap race and although the vibrant spark of excitement filled Lightning's eyes, its older equal lay there in Hudson's also.

From the very moment both cars left the starting line, Grace's gaze never shifted. Even when the thick red dust compelled her to cough, she still watched with deep enthrallment and wonder and so much delight. Although she sat there now, viewing the wonderful sight of the legendary indigo coupe, she still recalled with shockingly clear imagery her girlhood days and her deep and unwavering interest in the one known in the circuit as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. The car whom had led a stellar yet brief career under the checkered flag but vanished without a trace to a town no one knew. The car she had seen in all of those magazines; the reels Jimmy had given her after their visit to Thomasville; the newspaper copies her own mother had saved. The car who would be remembered forever for his glory but more importantly to her was simply (and so wonderfully) her father. As a young Cornelia Hornet had done in the long-past 1950s, Grace Hornet that day heartily cheered on her favorite racer with that sort of verve that'd never die.

The race energized everyone and by the time the second to last lap was on, all of the cars on the edge of the butte cheered and honked their horns. It wasn't a matter of who they'd rather see win – it was the matter of seeing something like this for what it was now being undertaken by the car they had never before known was a legendary racer undertaking again what his lost wife had said he wasn't born as, but plainly born to do. For Hudson out on that track, he felt the accumulation of the years and the pains they'd brought about fall down. Again he was young, in the prime of his life, at Thomasville Speedway. The young red car inches apart from him though was not someone to beat. He was simply someone to race _with_ , and it was an experience where even Hudson cared none about the final outcome. It wasn't a race to win. It was simply one to enjoy for what it was.

Lightning could have easily outdrove the coupe in terms of speed but decided that day the bigger thing wasn't winning but winning together. The pair crossed the finish line at the same time to the raucous ovation from every car, but the one who made the first move was Grace. Lightning McQueen, the kid who had once been a self-assured hotshot, sat plastered with dust a few yards past the finish line. The biggest grin bloomed on his face. A little off of his left side sat Hudson Hornet, a car who would be forever remembered in the racing world as remarkable. His darker paintwork was coated from hood to trunk in the desert dust, lending him not a messy appearance but one that simply said he had again, briefly, lived the life he had so loved. His greater age and lack of racing in so many decades had worn him out more but his smile was undeniable also.

Grace came up to Lightning first, grinning. "You aren't too terribly bad, little brother." she softly laughed, giving him a little nudge on the side of his fender. "I bet you never thought you'd drive a dirt track like that, did you?"

He laughed as well. "No way, I didn't! I never thought I'd be on one at all. _Ever_." The Cadillac's grin broadened.

"Well, you oughta be real glad you ripped up our street and was sentenced to fix it by my father then!" She threw him a warmly questioning look. "You _are_ glad about that, aren't you?"

"Okay, I _guess_ I am." the younger car jested but with whole-hearted truth that couldn't be contained in any feigned attitude. Grace gave him a little wink that said she knew this before moving on to Hudson. Before any words were passed, she leaned over; pressing her fender against his in the sort of faultless love only a daughter could give to her well-adored father.

"You're the most amazing racecar in the world. The magazines I read as a girl hinted at such – some even said it – but I never knew what exactly it was they saw to give them the liberty to make that claim. I saw a suggestion of that in those reels Jimmy gave me, but seeing it there and seeing it at this very moment in my life, not on camera or in the newspaper; it's something that defies words. It's no lie, Daddy. For the ways you've raced and for the ways you've raised me after what happened, you don't just claim the word 'Fabulous' as a portion of your career name. You've really, truly earned it."


	82. Chapter 82

82~

The young, red racer not only gave Radiator Springs and Hudson the new leases on life they needed more than could be known, but he became a closer companion for Grace as well; the sort of friend who had no direct knowing of the life she had had which made things easier in a lot of ways. Being in the small town, its residents, and a different pace in life humbled Lightning and also opened his eyes to what lay beyond the world he had entrenched himself in for a long while, the sort of life Hudson could describe by no other words than "fast paced," for better or for worse.

"So, can you tell me something about your mom?" the young car led in as a possible conversation starter with the seafoam-green Cadillac who smiled softly upon hearing his words.

"I can," she agreed, "but I think the story would be best if we went for a drive. That is, if you're okay about going out with your big sister instead of your girl." Everyone was well aware of the blooming young love between him and Sally. He chuckled.

"Nah, I don't mind." he said. She looked first to the long road ahead, then to him before cranking over her motor.

"Well then, buddy, we'd best get going."

They drove uncounted miles out till the Cadillac (who had led the way) slowed and pulled over into an overlook for the gorgeous Ornament Valley, the very same place she had met with the violet-eyed DeSoto who had fallen in love with her father. It was also the place where Helen Sparks and Hudson had met a final time before she returned home to Wyoming.

"My mother loved it here," Grace began. "I don't know that on my own that much but I was told this by my father. Neither was from here but grew to love it more than their respective homes for what it represented: new chances; different beginnings after stories elsewhere had ended. The greatest story of all to continue was my parents' marriage, although unfortunately it ended here instead. Here in the place of fresh starts."

"What was she like?" Lightning asked. Grace briefly closed her soft-blue eyes, summoning the memories of childhood again to modern light. Again she was that young girl safely ensconced between her mother and father's big and reassuring frames.

"She was everything to me," the Cadillac said. "I don't think I ever doubted her. Going out with Mama to see our friends around town was one of my favorite things. Looking back now I realize Flo meant a lot to her. Mama never seemed to have a bad word to say about anyone. She was friendly, optimistic, and so loving. She had everything she could have ever wanted when she met Daddy. I learned that when she was younger, her fondest dream was one day being called Mrs. Hornet. She got that and more. She got a name, a companion who never stopped loving her, and a family – at least the very beginnings of one."

Lightning noted the sad tone in the Cadillac's soft and youthful voice and looked fully away from the Valley. The older car continued to speak after that small pause. "Losing Mama was such an awful experience that all I really focused on was that. I wasn't unknowing of her being pregnant and although I may not have understood what the word 'miscarriage' meant, I could still understand death though none was as powerful to me as having my mother be claimed by it. I guess at that time the idea of me actually having a brother and sister didn't seem completely real to me and so the blow wasn't the same." She suddenly looked to her young companion with serious eyes. "You must not ever mention a word of that to my father, Lightning. I couldn't stand accidentally hurting him. Promise me."

He nodded. "I promise, Grace."

"Thank you. I never can know exactly _how_ my father felt from everything that happened that day, but I know he was broken, and some broken things can't be made completely whole again. It's like how he was fixed up after his crash but there're dozens and dozens of scratches under his paint – even now. The heart is the same way." she murmured. "Mama meant the world to him, too. He lost the love of his life and two kids that were just babies in less than twelve hours. I can't ever know how he feels."

"I think the picture of your mom at the museum here is a nice touch," Lighting considered. "Seeing as to how you said she was such a fan."

"I'm glad you like it, too. Daddy said that if she were still alive, Mama would likely be bewildered to see her portrait on such a scale." Grace said with a laugh. "She was modest."

They turned to watch the shadows play across the mountains and bluffs of the Cadillac Range, a name that was more befitting than anyone could have initially assumed. The seafoam-green car sighed quietly. "I wish she could have known you, Lightning. I think she would have truly liked you. Even when you were an A+ stinker when you first came here." He chuckled now.

"Really? You think that?"

"I think so, but I'm also pretty close to knowing so. Mama liked meeting others. She was feisty though, so you would've had some dished back to you if you pulled some of your antics while paving the road initially. She would have supervised you the whole time."

"Yikes," the young car said, feigning fright.

"Ask my dad if you doubt me," she encouraged. "I wish she were here for a million reasons though. A million." Lightning looked back to her, seeing the grown woman who would always remain at heart the little girl who had lost her beloved mother far too soon in life. He gave her a reassuring little nudge fender to fender. She read the unsaid meaning.

"Thanks, little brother." she said, smiling gently.

"No problem, big sister." he replied. His mirrored smile was genuine.

. . . .

THEY drove back into Radiator Springs and the first car they saw aside from a tourist here and there was Hudson. A smile instantly leapt to Grace's features when she saw him. "Daddy!" she greeted, gracefully slowing directly before him. She leaned over and laid her fender against the side of his, her eyes slipping shut in peaceable content.

"I was wondering where you and the punk ran off to, darling." he said, nuzzling her in return. Lightning scowled in mock irritation.

"Heyyyy, I'm right here." he retorted. Hudson's gaze shifted from his daughter to the racer. His gleaming chrome bumper curved into a smirk.

"You're going to qualify as a punk for as long as I see fit, dirtboy." he said. Lightning feigned further exasperation.

"That could be forever!" He stamped a tire on the asphalt in punctuation. The old car simply laughed at the act.

"I never said that I wasn't stubborn." Grace moved around to pull alongside the coupe so they both looked upon Lightning in the same fashion. His eyes switched from one to the other.

"I forget to warn you about that," the Cadillac teased him. Lightning's eyes rolled skyward.

"Oh great! Just great!" he wailed. Grace couldn't hide her laughter.

"Keep in mind, Rookie, I'm still expecting those 499 other laps out of you at Tailfin Pass. I'm stubborn and I also don't forget things that easily." Hudson reminded, smiling still.

"I'm doomed now,"

"You're welcome, son." the old car said. He and his amused daughter shared some secret meaning in the eyes to confirm this. Grace couldn't have been happier though. What she had told Lightning earlier had been true; the blow of her mother's death was a matter so severe to her and to her father, its damages could never be fully repaired, and like the long scrapes and scratches across the coupe's frame, they'd never go away. Also true though was that, alike to the smooth coat of paint used to cover up those very scratches, the essences of happier times could overlay the figurative breaks in a heart, strengthening it anew with the knowing that the hurt would always stay to a point but that it could be softened by something sweeter.

While Lightning went off later that evening to spend time with Sally, Grace spent her day off to its fullest extent and instead of returning to her own home kept company with her father. No matter how many years went by, the comfort of her very first home wasn't lost on her, no matter how plain it was to look upon. There the memories of her childhood came into Technicolor clarity and present circumstances seemed bolder and longer lasting. It had changed little since her youth. The biggest change now was that the three oft-dusty Piston Cup trophies had been moved to the racing museum at the entrance to town; a matter that sat just fine with Hudson. Wearing his famous paintwork and seeing it day and day out was "tiring enough" without looking at "dusty cups." If he was trying to conceal the humor in his voice when mentioning this, he did a poor job.

On the cabinet top where the trophies had been now instead sat the two portraits of Cornelia (the one a solo shot, the other from their wedding). In the middle was the latest addition, a color image of another Cadillac: Grace. She had met a freelance photographer at the V8 Café one day and although she had zero interest in sitting for a photo at any other time, this rare opportunity prompted her to ask if it would be possible for him to take her picture and if so, send it to her at his convenience. He had promised her he had and upon receiving it in the mail a couple weeks later, given it to her father for a "no special occasion" gift. He had been very glad to have it, saying the time for having portraits of his "two favorite ladies" was long overdue. At least it was no longer.

Looking at everything sparked a memory in Grace's mind and she began giggling and was soon full-blown laughing. It was such a crazy memory of such a crazy time. Her father looked to her with amusement. "Something funny?" he asked. She nodded.

"I just remembered something so silly. Do you remember, when I was little girl, that I came to you after Ramone had confused me? He had told me about how you and Mama attended one of the weekend races here and that I was there, but not there, and you knew where I were but I was _so_ confused because I didn't know why my daddy didn't try to find me if I was so well hidden?" She couldn't help but giggle again. Her father had to think for but a moment.

"I do remember," he replied, smiling. "That was the day you asked me the question I had no idea how to answer. And I also didn't _want_ to answer. Some doctor I've been."

"I can't believe how bold I was!" the Cadillac said, shaking her hood in shock. "I've not thought about that in _years_ and now I can suddenly look back and realize how absolutely blunt I was. I'm sorry for those awkward moments, Daddy." He shook his hood to dispel her apology before it could be elaborated upon further.

"Nothing wrong with being curious, Grace. I didn't mind. I think your mother was upset I told you though. She said you'd get ideas and start begging for a sibling." His gentle smile was still there but tinted with wistfulness. Grace leaned in to close the small space between them, softly nuzzling the older car.

"And did I beg?" she asked.

"Not much," he replied. "Not much." Leaning up against him now she closed her eyes, not from tiredness but from contentment. No matter age or size, when with her father she comfortably became the little girl again with her daddy, safe and watched over and ceaselessly loved. The bold paintwork marking him as a legend was invisible to her at the end of the day.

"Lightning is so lucky to have you for his teacher. I'm glad this day came for you, Daddy. You're just so happy again." she said to him.

"Again?" he inquired. "I've had you in my life since the moment you were born. I've never _not_ been happy, Grace." She opened her eyes, meeting his pair of azure blue.

"Alright, I stand to be corrected." she answered, smiling. "But you're even happier now. You love teaching him all of those racing techniques that made you famous. And you love racing again."

"You can take the car out of the race, but the race can't be taken out of the car." he said, returning her smile.

"I wish so many times Mama could see this all. She would have been amazed to see you at the California race, not as a viewer but as a crew chief. And to see you race around Tailfin Pass with Lightning. Oh, she would be stunned!"

"She might think I've gotten crazy in my old age!"

"Aw, not Mama." she said with a chuckle. Again she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment there with her father in a quiet evening. She thought of the day, and of Lightning. Of the California race and her father and the respective beginnings for old car and young. Slowly a thought began to form in her mind. As she focused upon it, it became clearer although no less daring. She had to ask her father, even though the answer may not be confirming to that small newborn hope in her heart.

"Daddy, I just thought of something," she began. "Something you might not like, though." He gave his daughter a reassuring nuzzle.

"I won't know till you say it, darling." She took a deep breath, composing the words a final time.

"You've faced your past; accepting the good and burying the bad forever. What I'm going to say may tempt the bad to show again but… I want you to consider the idea anyway. You love racing – you never stopped loving it – and competing with Lightning harkens back to those days at Thomasville. What if…" She bit the inside of her mouth, feeling as if she was violating some sort of privacy by saying this.

"What if you and Lightning went to Thomasville together, and raced?"


	83. Chapter 83

83~

Hudson's legacy in a small town called Thomasville did not disappear in the same way he had after his career-ending crash of 1954. When the old blue coupe drove back into the town he had last visited in the mid-1980s, man, woman, and child alike paused, their eyes scanning his unforgettable paintjob, wondering if it was in fact really true. The old ones leaned over to their grandchildren, whispering about how they had seen the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, when they were young and he was younger. Word passed around quickly and soon the whole of Main Street was lined with every manner of car, all gladly welcoming home their timeless champion and their native son. Hudson had never been one – even in his youth – to be so comfortable with fawning praise that he could discount it, so the situation for him was strange. He hadn't returned to the place of his birth to garner expressions of awe. He had returned to bury the last vestiges of overpowering grief the town had created and to firstly and forever remember all of the good.

While Lightning was practically exploding with questions of his mentor's hometown and the track that had given him his career, he knew there was a time and a place for everything and although it was difficult, he bided his time. Grace and Sally and a good portion of the rest of the Radiator Spring's crew distracted him in their best ways, but no one could blame the young car for not letting it go easy.

An inquisitive forklift named Jimmy still lived in the community (and was shocked to see his boss again after the '80s meet) and another unexpected member integral to Hudson's past in his own way had moved back after leaving the town – and the state – decades before: Henry Longmile. He was just as pleased to see Hudson, although he did briefly also seem to question if whom he saw now was, in fact, real. "It's good to see you again, Hud. In fact, good doesn't half describe it." the old sedan said, smiling. "We've missed you."

"I've missed the old life," the coupe replied, his expression similar. "I didn't think I'd ever see anybody I knew from those days again."

"Well, I've not up and rusted yet." Henry chuckled. Their gazes turned in unison to the weedy track. They had figured that was as good a place as any to meet and remember. "I don't even know where to start asking things." the sedan reflected. "I owe you an apology though." His eyes looked past his hood to clearly meet those of the racecar. "You returned after you were fixed up to be turned away at the start of the new season. I was there meeting with the hopefuls, but I never said anything to you. You probably sum it up to me forgetting you like the circuit aimed to, but it wasn't that. I was embarrassed, Hud. Embarrassed of this sector of the world I had chose to live in that could move on from their most remarkable racers to switch to the better and best found in youth and changing times. I couldn't bear to see a car I'd – indirectly – help lose his job. Would you believe I quit not too long after that? Got a job with a tire dealer and moved out of state."

Hudson took only a minute or two to consider though his azure-blue eyes wavered none. "I forgive you, Henry. Even if we'd never met again, I never blamed you. What happened that day was one thing. What you did before that is longer lasting and something I can't be grateful enough for." His smile took on that gentle warmth lent by a lovely memory. "You helped bring me my sweet and beautiful girl who was then just another fan."

Henry remembered the pretty Cadillac of the early days, young but so composed and polite he had thought her to be one of the most remarkable fans he'd ever met or even allowed himself to escort to say a quick hello to their favorite racer. "I remember," he considered. "She was a darling. The one you married the next year, also. Still married, I hope?" The indigo coupe took a moment before slowly nodding affirmative.

"I suppose you could say 'yes' to that. I promised her she was the one and only Mrs. Hornet."

"How is she?" Henry inquired. "Still sweet and pretty, I'm sure."

What Hudson said was told wistfully. "Always sweet and always pretty. Even at the end. Even when she got what she never deserved, I could look past it and still see the girl I knew I'd never stop loving." Henry was compelled to ask the inevitable.

"At the… end?"

"I lost her from a crash too long ago. She was coming home from visiting her parents and got mixed with the wrong ones on the road. She tried to lose them but instead she lost her life."

"I'm so terribly sorry," the sedan confessed. "That's not even the right word for it. I never could have guessed. When was this, recent?"

"1959,"

"You weren't even married that long, my gosh." Hudson shook his hood slowly for no.

"Not as long as I'd wish, but longer than I could've hoped for, not knowing how married life would work out. I would've kept her till the end, if that was possible, although the only thing I could keep was the promise I made her. She asked one day what I'd do if something happened to her. I told her I'd never marry again."

"And you kept that after all this many years?" Henry asked. The old coupe turned slightly, catching the last glimmer of the sunset upon his chrome trimmings. The wedding band encircling his left hubcap, an unquestioned piece of permanence to his appearance, sparkled in the dusky orange light.

"I never thought of going back on the promise, Henry." he said. "I followed it the same way I did my marriage vows. It's one way I'll never fully lose her."

. . . .

The planned race was impromptu, so this meant the long abandoned Thomasville track was forced to remain in much of the same way it had since Hudson and Grace had seen it in 1984, save the point of the track being dragged clear of weeds by an assisting tractor. The vast majority of the grandstand wasn't safe to hold spectators anymore; it held only what it could and the edges of the track and the inner circle were laden with the rest of the town's citizens. Children who had grown up in the town had all heard of the car whom had once commanded the speedway with inborn skill and dozens of pairs of young eyes were agape, seeing what they considered the impossible again, in this light and in this century. For them, seeing Hudson would stand out more than even seeing young Lightning, the magazine topic leader of current times.

The young car and the old one were lined up at the track's starting line. Henry Longmile ran as the commentator again. Jimmy was to wave the checkered flag. The rest of the Radiator Spring's gang held court in the track's center. Grace was given the place a young Cornelia Hornet had stood fifty-three years prior. Henry never could understand why it was he always remembered where Mrs. Hornet had parked for the long-ago race, but now he was glad he did and could "pass it on" to the bright and beautiful woman who was the pair's daughter.

Rookie and champion threw each other appropriately competitive looks, for although there were no stakes – high or low – to win, neither could properly afford to slack off. This was business.

"I'll be leaving you in the dust, old timer." Lightning stated with smugness. Hudson smirked in return.

"Not on my home track you don't, punk." he shot back. Their banter was interrupted as Jimmy took his place at the flag-waving stand and Henry Longmile's voice, retired from its commentator duties for decades but still apt for it, rang out over the gathered crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls of Thomasville, today is a red-letter day for our town, yes it is! Not only is our track being used again for the first time in night 30 years, but it's getting used by a very special car; the one Thomasville Speedway was built for, in my fair opinion! None of us have seen him race since 1954, and many of you have never seen him race at all. You're in for a huge treat; keep your eyes open! Presenting to you this day, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet!"

Cheers went up along the grandstand; a broad grin upon every viewer's face. Lightning tried a mock pout at not being included in the announcement,, but this was quickly wiped away by the words those of his ilk so loved to hear.

"Gentlemen, start your engines!"

With one faultless crank, Hudson's strong racing motor revved to life, followed suit by Lightning's. The coupe leaned over to the younger car. "You remember everything I taught you about drifting around these turns, right?"

"You'd better believe it!" Lightning said, grinning. As they looked back to the wide and tempting track before them, the permitting words were spoken with a voice lacking not a whit of its commentator's verve.

"On your mark, get set…."

Jimmy rose to attention, prepped for the final words. Lightning and Hudson both leaned down low to the ground, their bearing tense, primed for the thing they both knew so well and would never fail to stir their hearts. No more chatter was traded between them.

"Annnnnd, GO!" Henry shouted. Jimmy waved the flag. In a streak of red and blue, the two racers surged forward. Whistles and cheers and the honking of horns resounded throughout the gathered group, some cheering on the car that had made the town famous, and others simply cheering for the general excitement since they'd either not seen a race at all in their lifetime or it had just been much too long since they had. Some children waved little paper pennants they had made. It had all of the vibrancy of a real race with just a lot fewer viewers and the still undeniable factor of the dilapidated stands and weeds that couldn't be scraped out entirely. Although Grace had never known the track differently, before its abandonment, having a race held again made her be able to picture everything in its halcyon days; when the paint wasn't peeling so badly off of the old sponsor signs, when the windows in the commentator's stand hadn't cracked and broken out, when the wire fence hadn't succumbed to the stain of rust. She could imagine it all in its glory, if she just thought hard enough.

When her father came to the curve and turned sharply for his perfectly executed drift, time stood still for Grace. She had never hoped to see this famous technique on a track after seeing the photos in the racing magazines she had collected and now, there it was, happening right before. Her jaw fell and the biggest grin blossomed on her face. It seemed to take a century before she finally found her voice again, but when she did she yelled her loudest. " _Go, go, go, Daddy! Leave that punk in the dust!_ " she cried. Had Lightning McQueen not been forced to keep focus on the track, it's likely he would've stuck his tongue out at her, but the spirit of that would have been in as good of humor as all preceding it – even of her calling him a punk.

Because this was an ad-hoc race and because neither car had any crew to provide service to them in moments of need, the race was cut down to far fewer laps than the norm, but even if it _had_ been the normal number, it all would've seemed too short to those gripped, watching. Old car and young were fender to fender nearly the whole race, even though it would've been very easy for Lightning to pass the blue coupe. Even though this wasn't an official race, the younger knew without aid of verbiage that this wasn't the match he was to win. He had no right winning it. He didn't _want_ to win it. This wasn't his town; this wasn't his time and most of all it was not his glory. He was with a car who had been shunted from the career he had been born to have but had been denied any additional years from the effects of one single, awful day. Yes, Lightning knew it was not his place to win.

On the last lap of the race the town would talk about for weeks in the future, Lightning dropped back after going in for the final drift, just enough to still look competitive but without intent to pass his rival. The finish line came closer and closer. Jimmy waved the flag gleefully. Henry Longmile's professional narrating went on. The crowd rose to the occasion, cheering all the louder now that the concluding moments had come. Hudson crossed the line, Lightning following suit a second later. The flag went down, Henry made his triumphant call. It was the first race Hudson had won again since 1953. Over the track, over the gathered folks, and over the broken-down signs and rusted fences, the pall of churned dust drifted. Cornelia had felt oddly lucky as it settled atop her, it being her first immediate contact with the sport and the car she had grown to love. Grace, so many years later and in the same place, felt the same.

There was no trophy or ribbon, no accolade heralded in the racing literature, but no one needed that to remember that day in Thomasville. Everyone beamed when the finish they'd hoped for had taken place, but unlike how things would've been in the past, all were invited to say hello and offer a well wish to the legend. Many could even genuinely forget his time of racing was over and done with for good. Others were in a state of denial, fooling themselves to hope the best dirt-track racer would garner victory anew in another town. The pennant-waving children were filled with excitement upon being escorted by Henry Longmile to the dust-coated coupe who wore the triumphant smile replicated time and time again in _The Daily Exhaust_ 's front page coverage back when his command of the track ruled the circuit, and the world of those who followed it.

Had she still been alive, Cornelia would've been one of the cars to flank Hudson in the center of the excited group but instead it was Grace, wearing a smile that said more than words could. On the other side sat a dusty Lightning McQueen, grinning all the same. From the right side of the Cadillac was Jimmy. The joy of this moment none of them ever expected stripped any hinting of age from racer, daughter, and crew member. It was a special photo taken, printed in the next day's edition of the newspaper, and like all of those before it, would live on.

If not forever, at least pretty darn close to it


	84. Chapter 84

84~

Back in Radiator Springs and back at the racing museum, Hudson became even more of a celebrity and whether he liked it or not, there were plenty who offered hearty congrats upon seeing the photo taken in Thomasville that now had its place at the museum. Grace was proudest of all and was sure to add this little tidbit of information to her general routine when she would be off from the V8 Café and there to lead tours.

Hudson kept the inner satisfaction he felt at still being able to rule the track he had started on just that; inside and nothing to boast over. Back in Carburetor County he was what he had been much longer: town doctor and judge. And in between all that he played his role as Lightning's mentor, although he wouldn't refer to himself in a word fancier than just a 'trainer'.

Despite all of the happiness and exhilaration brought on by the hometown races between Lightning and Hudson and the larger scale event in Thomasville, the old coupe knew something that could take the spark out of it all in a mere sentence. He had known how things worked when he was just a racecar but his understanding had a broader reach upon becoming the Doctor of Internal Combustion. What he knew was nothing recent. He had learned of it since Cornelia was alive; since the first time he raced for her solely. It was the one secret he had that he would hold fast to. It was better for it to be that way than to ruin the joy of others.

Racing was deadly, and the weight of those words wasn't a lie.

Every male representative of his family had been plagued by engine difficulties; all sooner or later being killed by it. As a young car starting off in the world of racing, he hadn't understood why so many of his female relations had turned the other way upon learning of his desire in life; why some had even cried.

His first encounter with the dreaded hinting of trouble had happened in 1954 when his engine had clear stalled around the 42nd turn, the velocity his form had accumulated being too great to correct in any way, resulting in the end-over-end crash that had made his beloved wife scream in horror, fearing her hardly-begun marriage was already ended.

What he had told Flo that one day under the neon-lit canopy of the V8 Café was also true. While everything else had been fixed up after his event, one thing – his engine – was never found to have any faults and so was no different now than when he was young. Demanding high-performance of it in a race – be it casual or professional – with this known inborn weakness and now his advanced age was taxing. His damaged frame had tilted further after being pushed into greater speeds than it could truly handle after a crash. The angle was one he knew Grace had seen, though he could figure she stayed silent only to not create focus on something neither really wanted to face.

Yes, racing was deadly, but in a befitting twist of fate, to a car whom had tried to forget it for too long, living a portion of that life again that would always be a part of him could never feel more right.

. . . .

The sibling relationship between Lighting and Grace flourished into something that was so natural and easy between them that aside from their broad age gap and their very obvious differences (all they really shared physically were facets of blue in their eyes), one could believe they truly were related. And like siblings, they also could get into good-humored little spats.

"Ramone says he thinks you'd look nice in metal-flake red, Lightning." Grace led in after finishing her shift at the V8 and going for a slow drive down Main Street to nowhere in particular. The racer scoffed.

"Yeah right."

"I think you'd look nice like that too. A nice, glittery candy-apple red." she pressed, grinning. She enjoyed her big sister privilege of teasing him.

"Nuh-uh." he maintained. Grace pulled out the card that always got a response.

"Well, I think your girlfriend would like it, you know." He looked over to her, his expression acquiring a humorous pout.

"Why would my girlfriend want a glittery candy-apple?"

"Because, girls like glittery things." she interjected with a wise and knowing look.

"Really. And do you?"

"Of course I do. Even though I never had intent to get married, I could appreciate a guy with shiny, glittery chrome over something dull." she giggled. "Just because I've stayed a 'Miss Hornet' all this time doesn't mean I don't have eyes to see with, little brother."

"Cars don't have chrome anymore!" he exclaimed. Grace shook her hood in a way that told of plain disappointment.

"And it's a real pity. You'd be cuter than a baby VW Bug if you got some chrome and that sparkly paint. Mark my words; Sally would think the exact same thing. You want your girlfriend to be impressed, don't you?" That was a question to trap even the smoothest talkers, so Lightning was seriously tripped up.

"Yes – I mean, no! I don't know! Yes, I want her to be impressed but I don't want to be a sparkly candy-apple! Chrome would look silly on me!" His eyes got big. "I basically don't even _have_ a real bumper!" he realized. Grace began laughing so hard they had to pause at the statue of Stanley where his bronze effigy overlooked Route 66. Lightning wore the pout of a cross child, spurious in ire though it was.

"Get the sparkly paint. I dare you." Grace pressed.

"Nooooooo!" he wailed. In the midst of their banter, neither expected to be interrupted, much less by a unmistakable blue coupe who wore a stiff expression well although one quick look to the depths in his azure eyes would prove just how much he had enjoyed witnessing part of the exchange.

"What's going on, you two?" he interjected. In unison they both turned to face him. Lightning hurried to speak first while Grace simply grinned.

"She's picking on me!" he complained. Hudson fired him a feigned warning look.

"Watch what you say about my little girl, dirtboy." he retorted. Lightning groaned.

"She _was_ picking on me!" he pressed. Grace began to laugh, which didn't help matters in any way. Hudson turned to his daughter who turned into a very serious lady upon being met by his gaze.

"You picked on him?" the coupe asked, the smirk curving his bumper telling fully how much he too could play the part of the lighthearted young.

"Not at all, Daddy. I was trying to be helpful and give him some appearance tips."

"Yeah!" Lightning shot back. "Like saying Sally would like me as a sparkly candy-apple!"

"You don't know that she wouldn't." Grace said in a sing-song taunt. Lightning was starting to feel like the loser in this matter, a thought begging to be confirmed by Grace's next words. "Well, Lightning, so far two of us think you need a new paintjob – me and Ramone. Now we need to take it to the judge and see what his ruling is. If he answers in favor of me, you're outnumbered, and _that_ means you'll have to be the sparkly candy-apple." She turned her naturally sweet smile to her father. "What do you think, Your Honor?"

Hudson pretended to mull over the "very difficult" situation. Lightning looked the way he had when he realized fixing Main Street was no joke. "Well," the coupe said. "I reckon Grace is right. A new paintjob would be a nice thing to do for your girl. Back when I was young, I got a new paintjob and once _my_ girl got used to it, she liked it."

Lighting's eyes narrowed in mock disgust at the ruling that went completely out of his favor. "Gee thanks, Dad." he muttered.

The unexpected word ending that response had Hudson briefly taken aback. While at some earlier point such would have brought sadness first for the remembrance of things lost, he strove to see the good first with the feelings of the other as an undercurrent, but one that wasn't fully at a devastating, flooding strength. He turned a smile onto the young car, one of the warm and caring qualities known by Grace her whole life.

"You're welcome, son." he said. "Now go tell Ramone we sent you."

"Do I really have to?" Lightning pressed. The old car chuckled.

"Not unless you really want to."

. . . .

"Did it bother you when Lightning called you 'Dad' earlier, Daddy?"

Grace knew how difficult this matter could be for her lone parent and with a heart always steeped in concern; she had to know for sure. After deciding she'd "picked on" the young racer enough, she opted to spend the rest of that day with Hudson. Never was that a hard task. Her father was contemplative on an answer, although the decision didn't seem to be agonizing in the same way it could've been in the recent past.

"No, darling. Not this time; not anymore." he said to her. "If it doesn't seem disrespectful to you, I finally have to admit it felt… right."

She shook her hood to dispel worrisome thoughts. "No, it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I'm glad. I'm glad to know that it didn't bother you and that it did feel right. I've been hoping for that myself for just so long now, really ever since that day you called him 'son' and felt so awful about it afterward. I'm glad you can call him that now more often, and I feel that's as right for you as the way I feel when I call him 'little brother.'"

"You've always been a wise and perceptive girl, Grace." he said, his gaze eternally loving. She softly laughed.

"When I'm as old as Lizzie, I'll be wise. Not yet."

The wispy clouds up high in the sky drifted and turned from winds that didn't currently exist on ground level. Grace remembered vaguely as a little girl being mesmerized by the seemingly effortless twirl created from the airstream. She was glad at that moment that there were still places in her hometown that the tourists did not know about and where peaceful retreats could be possible.

"I couldn't help but think how like your mother you were earlier when you were teasing Lightning." the old coupe said in time. "As good as she was most occasions; she had that sort of spirit also."

"I think she would have actually convinced him to get the sparkly paint though!" Grace replied, laughing.

"He may be even a bit too stubborn for her," Hudson pointed out.

"Nah. Not for my mama." she said. "I hope him and Sally have a promising relationship. Something that just won't be fleeting. It's good to see them together."

"It is," her father agreed. "And I hope the same."

"No one will ever have what you and Mama had though. That love just doesn't exist anymore. Hardly anyone would vote being alone for this many years." she reflected.

Hudson gently corrected her in that way he had. "I was never 'alone,' Grace. Even when you left our town and our county to see what lay beyond the mountains, I still wasn't alone. The bright presence you leave behind never offered a chance of that." he told her, smiling.

"Aww, Daddy."

He leaned her way to give her the loving affection only a parent could give to their sole child. "That's the truth, darling. I'll never know what it was I did to get someone as wonderful as you are for my little girl, but I'm glad of it."

. . . .

Had somebody said in those early days that a once-smug young racecar would not only bring life back to the bypassed town but bring a much-needed flavor of happiness to Grace and Hudson – two individuals marked forever by their past – any of the townsfolk would claim such foretelling was a folly, and no one would have really doubted the naysayer either. Truth could be stranger than fiction though, and in this case the "strangeness" was purely wonderful. The young car named Lightning McQueen left his mark on everyone in that small desert community in the shadows of the magnificent Ornament Valley, on the friends he had made (he eventually let Ramone repaint him, but opted out of the metal flake candy-apple red), the spunky Porsche he heartily thought of as "the One," the 1957 Cadillac he really did consider his sister – age no matter, and Hudson, the legendary racer who was nothing if he wasn't the kind and patient mentor who was more like a father to Lightning when the lights again dimmed and altogether were snuffed out at Thomasville. For although the old track had returned once more to decay in a modern era it could not last in, the heart of the car it had raised up to icon status remained young, never losing its wild desire to break the drabness of lawful speed limits and to again cut through the ageless wind like a bullet.

How do you thank someone for finally giving you the courage to enter a beloved past anew? Hudson didn't rightly know that answer, but he never said no when Lightning begged for a lap or two around Tailfin Pass, for during those moments he was the young champion again – the best thing coming from that tough career being a young lady named Cornelia, who was brought to the races because of him. No longer vying for an honor though, he was now the older racing with the younger.

Father and son, or at least as close as that could ever come.

Yes, he knew racing was deadly. It grew deadlier with every mile that passed beneath his dirt-track tires, but the feelings it dredged up were borne of a certain beauty.


	85. Chapter 85

85~

 **2009**  
 _There are those who live their whole lives in monotony, never aspiring beyond the mundane. There are those who live a common life without much sparkle and have regret upon regret of letting so much_ nothing _happen without reaching for more. There are those afraid to pursue a hope and those who find courage to try. And there are those whose last moments on earth are spent doing the very thing they love even though in the midst it's cut short. Don't weep for them; they are the lucky ones. They really, truly lived._

 __ _. . . ._

 __It was a day remarkably beautiful in a year blessed with near-perfection.

The desert was awash in color from spring rains and even the red rock mountains seemed brighter, as if scrubbed clean from the showers. It was all vibrant, as if torn from a Technicolor show. Something about it must have even stood out to the out-of-state guests who roamed into the V8 Café, for more than once Grace and Flo both heard praise and awe for the blooming cacti, the thick green desert shrubs and the general vitality of the land – something very few of them assumed was a word to describe a "wasteland" like a desert.

Much went on in the similar way it had in the past few years. Ramone still painted up customers (plus himself every other day, it seemed), Lizzie still sold bumper stickers and all sorts of other memorabilia at the Curio shop, Sheriff still stood watchful at his place behind the "Welcome" sign into town to watch for errant speeders, and Hudson still tended to those in need at the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic or playing a stint or two as judge when the times came about. When none of this called though, and when Lightning wasn't out of the area at some race, both still made the time on a convenient afternoon, although it never could be Sunday. That day was reserved for the tradition he had tried to maintain with his daughter as he had with her mother; the oft-heard of "Sunday drive." It was a custom neither would miss out on if it could be helped.

Lightning had returned home from the start of that season's training and was welcomed back to Radiator Springs with the hearty greetings of those he considered family in the same way Grace had. One he was most glad to see was Sally who could always enhance the cheer he felt upon being back threefold. Grace fell into that same category as well, for although she was very fond of teasing him, he enjoyed it. Maybe he wouldn't admit that nugget of info to her (there's no telling how much worse she'd get if she learned that!), but the repartee between them was undeniable and true.

And now, the very best part of being back was anticipation no longer. The long red-dirt road rolled out before him, bending and smoothly curving in the way everything looked when under speed. He had been on tons of tracks since choosing his career, but none were as special to him as the humble one rimming Tailfin Pass. It lacked everything the professional ones did: big lights, a perfectly manicured lawn, bold signage for various sponsors, and most obvious of all, the fans. This didn't lessen its impact at all though. The simplicity was a relief and welcome, for something that very thing is what one needed in their life.

The curve on the track was a perplexity no longer; he knew how to turn in for the drift taught to him by the world's best racecar (although he knew there was still a whole lot of practicing to do to manage it with the very ease possessed by his mentor). He figured he had a lot better chance of learning the perfect way if all he ever raced on were dirt tracks, but unless the mainstream interest of the world changed suddenly, that wasn't going to happen now or 5 years from now. Being away and coming back and going away again meant he had to keep refreshing his skills, but they were never too sketchy to begin with. Hudson would say so, and true to his nature in such matters, it would not be a lie either.

So it was an average race on an average day in a year all townsfolk called "perfect" because of the beauty bestowed upon them by the refreshing rains. Hudson and Lightning kept at even lengths the whole of the track until the curve. In good spirits Lightning surged ahead of him just enough to get around it first. That was about as "competitive" as he got; racing alongside the indigo coupe was more fun in the long haul.

 _Could've gone in just a little smoother_ , he thought before turning back to the straightaway again. He'd be back for awhile though – there was plenty room to improve.

Hudson always was quicker to execute the curve with the skills he may have not used on a regular basis in a long time, but still were something he'd never forget. After all, dirt tracks were all he had ever known. He went into that turn in the way he had a multitude of times before. And then time stood still one more time. 1954 and 2009 became equals, tied by one identical factor.

He felt the same feeling from fifty-five years ago, borne from under the hood in the racing engine steeped in the same curse that had befallen his family line. The roar of it was broken off and the brief silence that filled in was immense. He was going too fast. He knew there was no chance of correcting his steering in a practiced move that had quickly turned out of control. He relived again that moment at Thomasville when Cornelia thought her marriage had ended.

As he had then, and as his beloved wife had on the lonely highway into town, an old coupe beloved by the racing world for his unforgettable records as the Fabulous Hudson Hornet crashed. The last traces of the drift ended for good and he went over once. The course red dirt etched scrapes and scratches over the ones that already existed under a coat of paint.

He went over twice. Flakes of indigo, yellow, red, and white paint settled down into the dust. The scrapes became broader, longer. The impact dented a panel on that side; a fender on this side.

He went over again. His right headlight shattered from the blow. The red cover for his tails followed suit. Within their bulbs broke apart like the most delicate of porcelain. A glittering trail of glass was left in the sands after him, but like it had been for Cornelia, it was a sparkle from hell. There was no awesome beauty in it.

And again. The long chrome trims, tracing the length of his body and ending in the legendary rocket insignia that read ' _HORNET_ ' across its surface, broke apart where they were already split at his door. His once-smooth hood had taken a decisively harsh dent into its surface. His rear bumper, jarred beyond any reasonable pressure, hung severely askew. Its chrome surface was dulled by thin scratches.

He went over a final time. It held no promise of better possibilities simply because of this though. A crack so loud it echoed off the near mountains sounded when the coupe hit the earth for the last time. His tires took an awkward angle and the front half of his frame slumped down low to the sands of the track. His fore axle had broken again.

Time stood still for Lightning also when he skidded to a halt, quickly whipping around to see what had happened (he could hope it wasn't what it could only be), and when his young eyes locked upon the old coupe; smoky wisps curling out from under his hood and the flood of water from his damaged radiator deepening the red-orange of the ground, his words stayed lodged in his throat. The awful scene wavered and faltered as tears filled his eyes. This was a nightmare. It had to be.

 _Wake up, wake up, wake up._

But he was awake, and this was a nightmare for the living. Before wasting any more time dithering on what was starkly true, he was at the coupe's side in mere seconds. His eyes remained shut; his teeth clenched tight in the fashion only severe pain could cause. And severe it was. He couldn't name what was worse; the multiple times his old frame had collided into the earth, the snapped axle he could never rise upon, or the pain in the heart. He knew what no one else did – or wanted to face. He had known everything preceding this; knew it would happen one day, but that made that knowing no easier.

Something inside Lightning switched on and a change occurred that wasn't one to retreat willfully into the past. He wasn't the young racer at that moment hopeful on garnering the admiring throngs of the world with skill and speed. He was simply a young car, faced with the old one who had meant more to him than any prior to their first meetings, and he was scared.

"Dad! _Dad_! _ **DAD**_!" Lighting cried, tears tracing clean paths into the dusty surface of his hood. Had the worse already happened? "Say something!"

Although Hudson had started life as a racecar first, living that position before any other, in the bigger scheme it went last. He identified foremost as his wife's mate and a parent, and these were the roles he'd answer to at a darkest hour. "Parent" was not defined solely by true relation though. Through the fog of the indescribable hurt that had fallen over him, these were the very words to pierce through it. The fact someone aside from Grace had called him such didn't even stand out – it seemed only natural as he had told his daughter once a time before.

His azure-blue eyes slowly opened once more; someone would have to have been entirely imperceptive to not see the striations of pain etched into their depths that Cornelia had said could be described by no other word than "beautiful."

"I'm still here, punk." he said to the frightened young racer, trying to maintain the humor and snap he always had around him. "Keep your chin up."

Lightning knew deep within his heart the act – however brave it was – of his mentor was a ruse. It was one of those things no one wanted to admit or say outright but deep down like a splinter it'd fester until acknowledging it was the only option. His fright was so bottomless that he couldn't even find the words to say to the coupe. Not words that made proper sense.

"I didn't… I can't believe… if I had only…" he blathered. This was where Hudson slowly shook his scraped and dented hood, ending the cries of regret.

"Don't blame yourself, kid." he told him. In vain efforts he attempted to rise up from his slump but as that very same broken axle did in 1954, no change was permitted. When snapped, such a vital and large part as the axles created pain that could be described by no words. He had forgotten how truly awful it had felt… he had. "This would've happened to me… one day, anyway. Trying to tell an ex-racecar not to race is like telling the sun not to set. It can't happen." He attempted something like the smile he'd worn the whole of his life and it showed remarkably well even through what now bedimmed its sparkle.

"But you'll be okay, really, right? You have to be, you've gotta be." Lightning babbled, still trying to blink away the pooled tears in his eyes so the world wouldn't be so wavered by them; so that maybe it would not look nearly as hopeless as he feared. Hudson wished he could've said something to dispel the worries – that is what every good parent would do – but at this moment in time he was at a loss of how to address the situation.

"I'll be doing better when I can see together the two that mean the most to me." he said. Lightning wanted to tarry but he knew this wasn't the time and place. Instead he shakily nodded.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised before whipping around and tearing back to town. Alone now on the desert sands and on the track that had done what he knew would happen eventually, he gave in to the aching that wracked every inch of his battered indigo frame, closing his eyes.

 _Not yet._

 __. . . .

"Grace! Grace!" Lightning yelled as he skidded to a halt at Flo's V8 Café. "I need you to come with me, Grace!"

The seafoam-green Cadillac quickly provided a Ford Bronco with his order before wending her way past the other guests till she could locate the red racer. Her engine grew cold upon seeing the deeply terrified look in his eyes. Something awful had happened. She already knew it.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Tell me!" He blinked rapidly.

"It's your dad! I… we… never mind! You need to come now. Quick. I don't know how much time we have!" he exclaimed. At the words she never wanted to hear, Grace felt tears sting her eyes but blinked them hastily away. This wasn't the time to weep and worry – not yet.

"Oh noooo…" she said, but was unable to stop her voice from cracking. Flo came up at that moment. Grace turned to her before she could speak. "Flo, I need to go. Now. Something awful has happened to my father." The ex-Motorama car had to ask no questions to see the level of fear lodged deep into Lightning's features. She looked briefly back to the Café.

"That's fine, baby." she said. "You two go now, but I'll get Ramone to keep an eye on things for now. I don't know what's happened, but I'm not letting my little girl face this something alone. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Grace who was like her mother and never a hasty driver changed that day and tore after the racecar at well over 50 MPH to face the "something awful" that in her heart she knew wasn't _just_ awful, but would be sure to change her life. The moment they had stopped upon the old dirt track (where she knew this would happen, of course) and the dust had cleared, and the Cadillac saw before her in living color a scene she'd only known before in newspapers and fleetingly on the reel-to-reels Jimmy had shared with her, a scream came into her throat but it stayed there. She looked upon the indigo-blue coupe – once so sleek in his racing paintwork – now only an abstract of scrapes and dents. His chrome trim leading to the famed rocket was nearly gone on the side facing her and the broader piece bordering the bottom edge of his body was torn clean by his front tire and bent back and outwards. His shattered headlight was a glaring opposite to its pair, marred by cracks throughout its surface but otherwise intact. The smashed in hood. The undeniable signs of his severely damaged axle. She saw it all in that one glance. No longer could she restrain her tears.

"Daddy, Daddy!" she sobbed. Again she was the little girl being led into the Mechanical Clinic to see her mother…

 _"Mama, Mama! Oh, Mama!" she had cried in a way to wrench even the toughest heart.  
"My baby… come here." Cornelia had summoned. With eyes already blurred by tears, the young Cadillac came over and gently cuddled into the broken side of the older one. "Oh Mama!" she sobbed again._

Grace wanted to be anywhere else at that moment but also nowhere else, as senseless as that sounded. Yes, seeing what she saw before her was a situation she knew would never leave her – would haunt the rest of her life – but she knew she'd regret it more had she never been there. "Oh Daddy!" she cried.

For Hudson, seeing the one he would always call his "little girl" brought upon a pain worse than what even his second crash could create. "Come here, honey." he told her. Without another word she bridged the final space between them and fell – softly – against his fender. Her sobbing was borne of a heart as surely shattered as the glass in his lights. It was not a moment for speaking, from him or from her. He looked upon her with eyes steeped in sorrow. He never had words for how much she had meant to him; never had words for the gratitude he had to be lucky enough to have such a daughter. Anyone would say "perfection" was an impossible thought, but for the old ex-racer, Cornelia and Grace, his "two favorite ladies" would forever be that. He knew he had likely depended on her far more than was fair, but her heart had never been closed to anyone. Except to those who killed her mother, which was only understandable. He had felt ceaselessly the same all his life.

What could he tell her? "Don't cry?" That was a useless petition. Sometimes no words at all could be used. All he could do was nuzzle her in as comforting a gesture he could offer. Her tears fell, rolling off the side of her tilted hood to finish their journey across his paint, across the scratches. She did not notice when Flo arrived with almost the whole of the town beside her. It all was worse than the Motorama car had imagined and she compulsively looked from Hudson to Grace and back again. She wanted to be there with them but knew it wasn't her place to interrupt the moment between parent and child. She didn't have to be a true parent herself to know how much this all mattered.

Mater's first response to anything of this ilk was to tow the afflicted to help but as he sat there beside the shining mint-green café proprietress, he was at a loss also. "Whuddya think we ought to do, Miss Flo?" he quipped. Her eyes didn't shift from the tableau of a girl already grieving for the father she hadn't lost yet but would in time.

"Nothing, honey." she said, her own normally chipper voice doused in somber note. "We can't do nothing. He's the doctor; next one's well on over into the next town and county."

"Couldn't tow him," the tow truck said, feeling lost in a matter he could do nothing to change.

"Sho' couldn't," Flo murmured. "Would hurt the poor ol' guy even worse."

Not far down from them was Sally, stripped of her inherent spunkiness in the same manner as the big-finned beauty nearby. Her every wish was to be right there amidst them and to comfort the one she had grown to so love, but also like Flo, this wasn't the time for it. Lightning needed this moment with the one who had become so much more than just a trainer and crew chief, and the one who had become the big sister he never knew would be in his life.

Hudson was well versed in knowing the hard details of something – being a doctor did that – and he knew with his forever-silenced engine, his broken radiator and the scope of everything else that had gone wrong he couldn't even begin to guess, time wasn't fully on his side. Racing was deadly. He knew this day would come. He wasn't young anymore. There were plenty of reasonable factors, but finally voicing what had to be said was proving to be the hardest task he ever surmounted. He gently continued to nuzzle his daughter and began to address her as much as nearby Lightning.

"This day was undeniable, but that makes it no easier. I've driven my last mile." he began. It took every shred of focus beyond the pain to address her – them – in the ways he wanted to, but he was no quitter. The words Grace feared were coming gave a tearing sob to pair with the flood of tears. She was the one he spoke to solely now. "It happens to everyone, darling. No matter how fast we drive, we can't escape it. I've had more years with you than I could've asked for. You've made me proud to be your father.

"Keep a good eye on Lightning," he said, trying to add humor to the heavy mood. "Between you and me, he'll always be a punk." It was then he turned to Lightning. "Don't you get too upset if my girl picks on you."

"Oh no, I…" Lightning stammered, but Hudson saw through it.

"I'm just kidding you. Keep practicing the things I've taught you. You'll be a real champion one day." he said. "Don't crash when you go in for the drift."

Grace knew the moments between them were numbered and if she would speak, she had to now. She looked up; meeting her father's faultlessly loving eyes. "I'm even prouder to call you my father, Daddy. Thank you for being the best racecar in the world and because of that attracting Mama's eye. I couldn't ever hope for better parents. I love you with my whole heart." He tried to maintain his legendary, kindly smile one last time.

"I love you with my whole heart too, Gracie." he said. His eyes shifted to the young red car nearby. "And I love you also, son. You gave me what I never thought I'd have: a second child; the son I lost back in 1959. And your Sally is as close as I've ever come to having my other girl also, even though she doesn't know it. Take good care of her."

"I will," Lightning promised. Hudson knew he meant it. "And I love you too, Dad."

Grace leaned in to give the coupe a kiss on the side of his fender, ignorant of the scrapes that had torn so much of his racing paintwork away. Soon the time would come she'd never be able to do this again. Never be able to do this; never be able to see him. Never be able to have those father/daughter conversations she loved and treasured so much. The thought was nothing short of startling and the taste of a bad dream there was no waking from. Tears stung her eyes anew. She knew this was only the beginning of the long, hard road before her that had no shortcuts to any better times. She collapsed into his indigo side, her pained sobs reaching across the desert.

Before her, Flo saw what she imagined the day of Cornelia's death and the days afterward were like. Then Grace was a young girl, forced too quickly to become a woman. Now she was firstly a woman, but within the heart that scared little girl dwelled still, crying for something no one then or now could make right.


	86. Chapter 86

**EPILOGUE  
2011**

They sat together on that quiet hillside, overlooking the track around Tailfin Pass. The ghosting of old tire tracks marred the surface of the red sands upon it. The sand glittered from the numerous mica deposits in it. She also wondered if still some fractions of that glitter were the small shards of glass from the shatter of her father's lights years before. Little did she know that when Hudson had visited the site of his beloved wife's accident, he had questioned the very same thing years afterward: Did the tailings from her lights sparkle still?

The town had changed – as everyone knew it would – when the old coupe drove his last mile. He had become such a fixture there in Radiator Springs, having been there since around 1955, that every one of them guessed they'd never imagined him to be gone. It would be like waking up one day and seeing the sun snuffed out from the sky. The impact was much the same, given the ways Hudson had lent to the town that was not his place of birth but meant more to him than that real place could. The tragic end he had – the one he _knew_ he would have one day – was the deepest piece of sadness to realize. Grace may not have seen the crash take place, but seeing the after-effects of the car whom had meant the world to her would forever be emblazoned in her mind. A little piece of her heart was left behind that day in a year which had been praised prior for its beauty and perfection.

She wasn't entrenched in the past though and did not spend her days steeped in clinging sadness. It wouldn't have been what either of her parents would have wanted.

After the accident and the ending everyone knew it'd have, small but important changes were made around the town. For one, a group vote was held at the courthouse and all agreed that it would be fitting to have the Ornament Valley Mechanical Clinic turned into a museum specifically dedicated to the legendary car who had plied his trade. The former business markers were taken down and replaced with signage for the Hudson Hornet Racing Museum. The accompanying small residence was taken over by Grace when she moved from her own home and rented it out to Lightning and Sally, an instance of young and happy love that could only make her smile with joy upon seeing it. Being at her place didn't feel right after losing her father. Being back where her life began just was more fitting, and more comforting on those lonely nights of remembering. There she would always feel the presence of her longest-living parent.

Within the new museum the very last part of the tour consisted of what needn't be explained by unnecessary words as visuals spoke far greater. In that large-format photograph – the only ornamentation on one wall – was the effect of a where one version of life ended and another began. The wedding portrait between Hudson and Cornelia on the day she had her dream come true of one day being Mrs. Hornet was simple in a befitting way. It was a courthouse ceremony, lacking the pomp and circumstance other famous racers had chosen upon wedding the declared love of their life, but the fact it _did_ lack this seemed to be the promise needed for a union that never faltered. When Grace (she was the only one who led the guests of this museum) ended the tour in this final, simple room she could always say without a hint of question in her voice that her parents' love had lasted a lifetime, be it long or short. In a time where a marriage had been too short and the second half left behind often so lonely, many others would've chosen to remarry for the sake of quelling the ghosts of the past that trailed them like their very own shadow. Hudson had been true though to the end, placing his "two favorite girls" in the forefront of his mind, even though one of those girls was gone forever.

One younger lady who visited the museum on her tour of the west burst out crying at the end of the tour Grace had led her on, concerning the seafoam-green Cadillac of what she could've said wrong to provoke this. When the rest of the small group cleared out, leaving only the two women in the final room, looked over by that wedding portrait of the 1950s she gave her reasoning.

"It was nothing you said." she had told Grace. "It's just, I went here expecting nothing but some facts on a legendary racecar but instead I found something better." She had to stop here and try to blink back the rest of her tears. "It's the most touching story of honest, true love I've ever known. For your father to have seen his wife be brought in from her crash and… and… is that all true?"

Grace nodded softly. "He knew he couldn't do anything to save her so he did all he could: staying there at her side till the end. He loved my mama beyond words."

. . . .

She turned to Lightning where they sat upon that sun-drenched hillside. He met her gaze instantly as if he had already expected her to seek it. Her inherently soft, sweet smile adorned her features. There wasn't enough room to allow sadness to creep over her like a dark cloud and linger. "You became so much to my father, Lightning. I know you've heard me say this a thousand times already, but he meant it when he called you 'son,' and when you called him 'Dad?' It was like he'd been waiting his whole life to hear a boy call him that, and finally it happened. I guess it's not wrong to say he did wait his whole life, just about. Except he wouldn't call it 'waiting.' After Mama died and my little sister and brother with her, he gave up, knowing there'd never be a chance. You may've come here like a rebel and torn up our road, but after you got past that griping, you gave him back something he'd lost."

She leaned over to give him a friendly nudge. "Something I'd lost too. When I was a little girl I was so excited at the idea of becoming a big sister and pestered my mother about choosing names from almost the very moment she told me about the baby. I was so excited when I got the news. But I didn't lose my chance to pester a little brother after all." At this she laughed, joined by the young racer.

"Well hey, I never thought I'd have an older sister either." he said, grinning. "You're a pretty great one too, Grace."

"I'm trying to be the best I can be." she promised. "Being your sister though comes with some strings."

"Strings?" he asked. "Meaning?"

"Meaning… you'd better make notes right now to invite me to your wedding, you know. If you don't, I'm not going to be speaking to your sorry hood for a year." she warned. He pretended to seriously contemplate this.

"Wellll, if you don't speak to me for a year that also means that I don't get teased, or pranked. For a year. I don't know, Grace… sounds like an idea."

"Don't you dare!" she fired back, laughing. "You'll be real sorry if you do that."

"Like how?" he asked.

"Next time you go get a do-over on your paintjob, I'll be sure Ramone knows to put sparkles in it." she said, smirking. Lightning wailed uncle at this. "Gotcha on that one."

"Yeah, you sure did. Okay, okay. I'll invite you." he grumbled, putting on the show that the Cadillac found so humorous.

The pair sat on the hilltop till the sun courted the horizon, enjoying a pleasant day while talking about things current and things old; things very old that Lightning could never know with his youth. Things that caused laughter, things that could bring wistfulness and things that would forever bring tears. There was so much goodness though in remembering. They talked until the sun began to set and then unanimous silence fell over both. The oranges and pinks and golds switched and changed every second, tinting the cacti, the sands, Tailfin Pass, and ultimately the peaks of the mountains around Cadillac Range. Sunsets marked an ending for many, being what they were at the day's close. For Grace though, they symbolized beginnings.

A sunset at the town park in Thomasville was one of the things to herald in her parents' eventual marriage. It was the time of day many of the most lasting talks between father and daughter had taken place. It was also the last gift of a day before a new one would start. Grace never saw them as something foreboding or sad. She turned to Lightning.

"I think I'm in the mood for a little company on a cruise down Main Street tonight. Up to that, punk?" she teased, using the name her dad so often had. Lightning scoffed.

"A cruise? Really?"

"I was born on Route 66 before it became such a big thing. Of course I like going for cruises. If you haven't figured that out about me by now, I'm disappointed!" she retorted. He knew he was caught, but didn't care.

"Okay, okay! I'll do it." he gave in. She turned over her motor and slowly began to reverse from her valley-overlooking park.

"Well, you'd best get a move on, little brother, because even though I'm a Cadillac, I could leave you in the dust for just a little bit if I wanted to. You want to get all dusty tonight?" she jested. He followed suit, turning and pulling up alongside her.

"No way, sister."

She smiled brightly at him, the gentility and sweetness in that expression so like her lost mother with traits of her father as well. She had received the best from both which would always shine through.

"Well, come on then. It's another day. Let's drive one more mile."

 **THE END**

 _This story is dedicated to Kelsey, AKA ClassyContour. Sister. Confidante. Bestie. You've given me encouragement when I've faltered; ideas when I have flailed, and the honesty I am forever grateful for. Your dedication to this jumble of words that is my very first fanfic sticks with me always and I know I am insanely lucky to have the gift of your company in my life. I love you with my whole heart, sister. Let us, too, drive one more mile._


End file.
